


Wild Geese

by flightlessnerds



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Coming of Age, Emotional Sex, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Literature, M/M, Poetry, Religious Guilt, Slow Burn, Teenagers, Young Love, conversion therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 11:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightlessnerds/pseuds/flightlessnerds
Summary: “No offense,” Josh replied, unfolding his arms. “But the straightest thing about me is my middle finger.”In which the summer before college becomes the summer of Tyler, and Josh learns how to care.





	Wild Geese

**Author's Note:**

> _“Did you ask God if it’s okay to do his job?” - Kyle Knudsen, DBMK_

On the third Friday in June, at 4:30 pm, Josh pulled out of his aunt’s driveway and made the fourteen minute trip to Saint Stephen’s Episcopal Church, and what he was certain would inevitably be the worst hour of his life. 

As he made his way across the parking lot towards the double oak front doors, Josh couldn’t help but think that the whole endeavor felt a little too much like a John Green novel. Maybe it was the church, or the _support group_ , or the _sad white boy_ demeanor that he couldn’t seem (and didn’t really try) to shake. Either way, it was the last place on earth he wanted to be. 

The oak front doors looked even more ominous up close, and Josh reminded himself for the umpteenth time that day that if he could just get through this - just two months of meetings - it would be smooth sailing from then on. Two months of the support group, two months before college, two more months living under his aunt’s roof. 

It had been the prospect of moving out at the end of the summer, more so than anything else, that had convinced Josh to humor his aunt and agree to the group in the first place. And although his outing had been accidental - to the extent that his aunt finding an open webpage of porn on Josh’s _own_ laptop could be considered accidental - Josh had adopted the mindset that summer was as good a time as any to let the initial hysteria play out. 

And so, as it was - one week and several lectures and tearful conversations later - Josh left his aunt’s house at 4:30 in the afternoon and drove to his first meeting of _Focus America: Reach Truth - Hope for Homosexual Teens._ He'd laughed openly when his aunt had handed him the pamphlet, finding it hard to believe that any kind of organization, no matter how backwards, could be unironically sporting that name in this day and age. But when Josh had logged on to the sponsoring organization’s website later that night, clicking through page after hate-fueled God-fearing page, the whole thing had started to feel a little less funny. 

Fortunately, Josh was tough. Josh could show up at his aunt’s church once a week for an hour and try to tune out whatever nonsense he encountered. It was better than the alternative. 

After following a few bright orange signs directing him to a hallway of Sunday-school rooms, Josh was greeted by an almost _aggressively_ cheerful girl of about his own age, standing to the entrance of a small room housing a semicircle of chairs. 

“Welcome!” the girl enthused loudly, perfectly manicured chestnut curls practically rippling in excitement as she spoke. There was a single hair stuck to her lipgloss, but Josh decided not to tell her. “Are you here for _Reach Truth_?” 

“Yep, that’s the one!” he forced out, in a half-hearted attempt at feigned enthusiasm

“Great!” she shrilled again, and Josh wondered if she was like this when no one was looking. “Lucinda will be here soon, but you can go ahead and take a seat! Lucinda’s the founder of the entire sponsoring organization, so you’re _super_ lucky that you get her for your group leader! I had, like, a boring intern when I started last summer.” 

So she was one of them. One of the eponymous _homosexuals_ for whom the group offered hope. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was the sort of shiny polished product that they advertised, all traces of gay prayed away. 

“Anyway,” the girl went on, “here’s an introductory pamphlet for you, and you can go ahead and take a seat! My name is Stephanie if you need anything else!” 

Josh allowed himself to be shepherded into the room, and instinctively scanned the half-moon of chairs. Only a couple other people were here so far - a very thin, very nervous looking girl; a younger kid of maybe fourteen or fifteen who was engrossed in his phone, and a slightly older boy, who had his legs drawn up under him on the seat, and his nose deep in a paperback copy of _The Epic of Gilgamesh._

Josh picked a seat to the right of paperback boy. 

As he settled into his chair, Josh bothered to take a look at the pamphlet in his hands for the first time. The words _FOCUS AMERICA: REACH TRUTH_ stretched over the cover in bold white capital letters, overlying the face of a thin blonde woman with perfectly straight teeth - Lucinda Lake, he assumed. He vaguely remembered the name from his internet snooping, attached to articles with titles like and “Fighting the Liberal Lie” and “How the _Gay Agenda_ is Targeting our Youth” - titles that gave him a similar feeling to the one he got when someone delivered a joke so entirely ridiculous that no one was sure whether it was appropriate to laugh. 

The middle fold of the pamphlet stretched between two different images of the same teen, looking sullen and concerned on the left, and then, on the right, looking roughly as bubbly and self-assured as Stephanie. It practically screamed _Good Christian_. The round _Focus America_ logo sat directly in the middle, the surrounding text bending to accommodate it like a ripple, or the skin around a wound. 

“That always reminds me of _The Sneetches_ ,” said a voice next to Josh, making him jump. 

Paperback boy had put down his paperback, and was peering over Josh’s arm towards the open pamphlet. 

“I…” Josh started. “What?” 

“ _The Sneetches_?” the boy began again. Josh tried not to notice how fluffy his hair was. “Come on. Everyone knows Dr. Seuss. Some of the Sneetches had stars on their tummies, and some didn’t. So the ones without stars, they went through this sort of machine thing that gave them stars so they could look just like everyone else. It reminds me of that.” 

He stretched out an arm, pointing to the sullen teen on the left, dragging his finger across the logo, and over to the smiling one on the right. 

“They put you in their machine, and you come out looking like that.” 

Josh stared. 

“That’s…” he began, thinking carefully, “grim.” 

Paperback boy smiled, and Josh noticed that his bottom teeth were uneven, white and overlapping like fallen dominoes. It was adorable. 

“Yeah, it really is,” the boy responded, and then his nose was back in his book. 

At 4:58, the door to the room opened one last time, and the face from the pamphlet walked through; only now, it was attached to a body that Josh could only describe as _Church-Going-Organic-Republican-Tracksuit-Chic._ Lucinda Lake, pleasant as poison, planted herself in a folding chair facing the half-moon of teenagers, smoothing her skirt down against the undersides of her stockinged thighs as she sat. 

“Welcome,” she said in a almost-stage whisper, as if she wanted them all to have to lean in a little to hear, “to a space of truth, and grace. A space where you will find guidance from me, support from your peers, and most important of all - comfort and forgiveness from the Lord. I am Lucinda Lake, and this is _Reach Truth._ ” 

Josh looked from chair to chair, half-expecting one of the other people to laugh. If anything, though, they just looked bored. It sent a chill down Josh’s spine to think that they might have become this accustomed to Lucinda’s spiel, which sounded to him like it could have been copy-and-pasted straight from the script of a daytime talk show; and yet, no one seemed fazed. Paperback boy hadn’t even closed _The Epic of Gilgamesh._

“I am _beyond pleased_ ,” she went on, talking slowly enough that one might mistake her tone as being directed towards a group of slightly deaf seniors, “to tell you all that we have a newcomer in our midst! Please join me in giving a warm welcome to _Joshua._ ” 

Once again, he couldn’t help but feel like he should be walking onto a stage, greeted by the hooting and applause of a studio audience as the host led him to his chair. 

“Please, Josh,” Lucinda Lake went on. “I feel like I already know you from talking to your lovely aunt, but please - introduce yourself!” 

Josh’s stomach churned sour as Lucinda turned her gaze onto him, gesturing in his direction with both hands - palms up and wrists together, as if she was expecting him to hand her something delicate, like sand, or a small rodent.

“Uh,” he said. Paperback boy smiled without looking away from his book. 

Lucinda looked at him expectantly, and he could see every one of her molars. 

“I’m Josh,” he began, throwing caution to the wind. “I’m here because my aunt found porn on my computer. And it wasn’t of girls.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Josh saw the boy to his left snap his head up from his book. He tried to gauge his reaction without looking directly at him, but couldn’t tell whether his expression had changed. A few other people in the circle were chuckling, and a few more looked mildly horrified. He supposed those latter ones were probably the long-timers. 

To his surprise and slight disappointment, Lucinda Lake’s pleasant expression didn’t falter. If anything, her smile just widened, dripping saccharine indulgence, and something that might have been intended as pity. 

“That’s quite alright, Joshua,” she gushed, shaking her head in slow motion. “We don’t pass judgments here, nor do we consider people’s innocent transgressions to be a reflection of their true character. You are here to start fresh, and to allow your faith to guide you back onto the right path.” 

The way she said it, Josh thought, you could almost let yourself believe that she wanted the best for you. He figured that’s probably why it was so effective. 

“Cool,” he said, nodding in equally slow-motion. “Sounds legit.” 

_Two months,_ he reminded himself. _Not worth putting up a fight. Go along with it. That’s the most painless way._

“And I think,” Lucinda went on, turning her focus away from Josh and addressing the group as a whole, “that Joshua has given us the perfect introduction to today’s topic. _Which kinds of authority should we listen to, and which kinds of authority should be challenged?_ Let’s start with an open discussion…” 

That was all it took for Josh to tune out. He hoped sincerely that introducing himself would qualify as his contribution for the day. 

Josh had dedicated the last twelve years of public schooling towards refining his ability to tune out other people talking, while still maintaining the outward appearance of being engaged; discussions and lectures could bypass his consciousness entirely while he daydreamed about food, or outer space, or (most frequently), boys. He knew to nod occasionally, to direct his gaze in the vague direction of the person talking; as long as he looked at least mildly interested, he could float on the edge of the conversation, never really having to take part. 

And, to his great relief, Lucinda managed not to call upon him to speak for the rest of the hour, allowing him to sit back and zone out almost completely. Only one other person had managed to escape Lucinda’s questions or invitations to speak; although she had somehow managed to extract comments or answers out of the shyest, quietest kids in the semicircle - even the younger ones who looked mildly nauseated the entire time - paperback boy hadn’t spoken a word. 

In fact, now that Josh thought about it, he wasn’t sure whether the boy had looked up from his book for the entire time that Lucinda had been talking. It seemed impossible that he would be able to get away with that; somehow, Josh was sure that if anyone _else_ had cracked open a book or started scrolling through their phone instead of appearing to hang onto Lucinda’s every word, she would have had something to say about it. 

Someone somewhere in the room was talking about high school bullying, but Josh wasn’t paying a bit of attention. Instead, he allowed himself to become just a little bit entranced with the boy’s eyelashes, which, it was starting to occur to him, were unnaturally long…

And then, in the next moment, the boy’s eyes were flicking upwards and staring straight at him. 

He was too paralyzed to look away. 

Paperback boy’s eyes were wide and curious, as if he were waiting for Josh to do something. Look away, maybe; was he challenging him? 

Josh held his gaze. 

“Dude,” said the boy.

Josh raised his eyebrows. 

“ _Dude,_ ” he said again, voice leaking urgency. He flicked his gaze towards the front of the circle, and Josh followed with his eyes, immediately reddened. 

“Joshua, _dear,_ ” Lucinda purred for what he was sure couldn’t be the first time - or, judging by the amused expressions of the rest of the group, the second, or third. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, cool exterior faltering. 

Lucinda Lake’s laugh fell somewhere between the sounds of wind chimes, and knuckles popping. 

“I was just wondering whether you had anything to contribute on the topic,” she rattled. 

It was the first thing she’d done all day that Josh couldn’t pass off as well-intentioned babble. She knew that he didn’t have the faintest idea what the group had just been talking about. He knew it, and so did everyone else. 

“Uh,” he said, cool exterior faltering. “And that was…” 

“Childhood influence,” she rang breezily, and he could see all of her back teeth. “Does anything you were exposed to during your adolescence - books, films, media… maybe experiences with unenlightened people… does anything stand out as possibly having steered you towards your path of homosexual tendencies? What influences might you have been exposed to?” 

Josh waited a few more seconds, just waiting to see if anyone was going to laugh, or if someone was going to burst through the door and yell _just kidding!_

When no one did, he put on his politest voice. 

“It was probably the boys, ma’am,” he said. “They’re sort of everywhere.” 

Paperback boy let out a single, low laugh, and Josh smiled. 

“I think,” said Lucinda, ignoring the hushed titters of the rest of the group, “that will be all for today.” 

-

The only person out of the Sunday school room faster than Josh was the boy with pretty eyelashes, his copy of _The Epic of Gilgamesh_ tucked haphazardly under one arm. Josh was close on is heels, if only so that he could escape the room as quickly as possible. 

“Hey,” Josh called, as soon as he was out the door, but the other boy had already disappeared around the corner towards the main entrance. 

He picked up his pace, not even sure why he was trying to catch up, driven sheerly by curiosity and instinct. 

“ _Hey!_ ” Josh called again, pushing open the double front doors, and finally managing to gain the other boy’s attention. 

The boy turned around. 

“Tyler,” he said walking backwards. 

“No, Josh,” said Josh, confused. 

The boy finally stopped now, staring strangely at Josh before breaking out into a huge grin. 

“No,” he echoed, laughing. “Me. My name’s Tyler. I assumed that’s what you were going to ask.”

Josh was usually very talented at avoiding embarrassment, but so far today, he was 0 for 2 with this boy. 

He tried to recover quickly.

“Right,” he laughed. “It's - yeah. Nice to meet you.” 

“You too,” said Tyler, with a brisk smile, and then he was turning on his heel and strolling across the parking lot again. 

Josh grimaced. “Wait - _wait!_ ” he called, jogging to catch up with Tyler again. “I just… I need to know. How are you allowed to just sit there?”

Tyler raised an eyebrow.

“Like…” Josh went on, “how do you get away with sitting there the whole time and reading your book? She - Lucinda, or whatever, she just doesn't seem like the type… to…” 

He trailed off, and Tyler sighed, facing him straight on, and seeming to finally abandon his hurried exit attempt. 

“Let's just say I've been around for awhile,” he said. 

There was a finality to his tone, and Josh decided not to press it. He also decided that Tyler's lips were fuller than he first realized, round and red and pouted almost like a child’s, even in his resting expression. 

“And what about you?” Tyler said suddenly.

“Uh,” Josh said dumbly. “What about me?” 

The other boy sniffed, his face casual, but not quite hiding the twinkle in his eye. 

“Didn't exactly seem like you were giving her your rapt attention either. Gotta say, you seemed a little…”

Josh swallowed.

“Distracted,” he finished. 

“Well,” Josh flailed. “...I just.” 

Tyler's smile both twisted a screw in Josh’s temple, and made his heart constrict in a not altogether unpleasant way. 

“Look, I just -” 

“The book isn't so that I don't have to listen,” Tyler interrupted, surprising him. “In case that's what you were wondering.” 

Josh opened his mouth, and closed it again. Tyler took a few steps forward.

“I'm still listening,” he murmured, close enough so that only Josh could hear, even though they weren't within earshot of anyone else in the parking lot. “But people don't need to know that.” 

“Oh,” Josh said, unsure of the appropriate response. 

He wasn't sure why he was even bothering with this kid. All the evidence suggested that Tyler was a book nerd, and probably a good church kid - and therefore unlikely to have anything at all in common with Josh.

Yet nevertheless, something at the back of his mind egged him on, drove him forward, hinting, almost, that this boy - this conversation - was somehow a part of his story; or, at least, it would be. 

“You driving?” Josh asked before Tyler could turn away again, flicking his gaze down to scan for a car key.

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, and Josh’s eyes followed it back up. 

“Nah. I live like ten minutes away on foot. Plus, my parents both coach on Fridays, so they need both cars.” 

He mentally catalogued the mention of _coaching_ as a confirmation of what he assumed. Tyler was one of the _good kids_ that he usually made an effort not to cross paths with.

And yet…

“Let me drive you home,” Josh blurted, and Tyler raised an eyebrow. 

“It's literally a ten minute walk, Josh.”

“Food, then,” Josh improvised, calculating how much cash he had. “Let me take you to, like, Burger King or something. You can tell me about... about that book.” 

Tyler let out a long breath through his nose. 

“First of all, it's actually an epic poem. Not a book.”

Josh declined comment at this remark. 

“Second,” Tyler went on, “yeah, alright. But not Burger King. Can we make it Chipotle?”

Josh cringed. 

“I'm really sorry, but just… _anything_ but Chipotle.”

“Dude,” Tyler intoned, clutching his heart in mock affrontation. “You don't like Chipotle?” 

“I work there.” 

Tyler blinked. 

“Taco Bell,” Josh offered, and the other boy grinned.

“Even better.” 

Josh turned to make his way back in the direction of his Honda, and Tyler wordlessly followed, a small smile on his face. 

“It's not that I don't love Chipotle,” Josh told Tyler as they walked. “It's that I get a free burrito with every shift, and it actually gets sort of old when you're working like four or five times a week.”

“Noted,” Tyler said, smiling, and splitting off from Josh to walk around to the passenger side of his car. 

Josh slid into the driver’s seat, hastily clearing a few things off the passenger's seat and chucking them into the back. He was suddenly self conscious about how his car might smell - if it even smelled like anything at all - and all at once wished he was one of those people who hung pine air fresheners from their rearview mirrors. 

“It's…” Josh began, fumbling to turn the key in the ignition as Tyler did up his seat belt. “It's a little messy.” 

Tyler kicked a water bottle at his feet, which spun and rolled into another empty bottle. 

“It's not bad,” he reassured. “I was expecting more Chipotle bags.” 

“Oh, well,” Josh huffed out in amusement, “we can't take our free food out of the store. We have to eat it there, on break, or whatever.” 

Tyler looked at him. 

“Lame,” he said.

“Lame,” Josh said. 

As Josh backed out of his parking space. Tyler crossed his legs on the seat, opening his book on his lap. Josh almost opened his mouth to tell him not to put his shoes on Josh’s upholstery - but given that the upholstery had never really even been clean in the first place, he held his tongue. 

“You can read in the car?” Josh said skeptically, and Tyler shrugged. 

“I can read anywhere.” 

He watched Tyler turn his attention back to _Gilgamesh,_ balancing the book on his knees while Josh navigated them downtown. 

Just as they were pulling onto the highway, Tyler looked up from his book again. 

“Josh,” he said. 

Josh looked at him. 

“On the free employee burrito - does it come with guacamole?” 

He grinned. 

“Yeah, man,” Josh said. “You can get all the guac you want. Plus chips and salsa, and a drink, free.”

Tyler stared in amazement for the rest of the ride. 

-

“Unpopular opinion,” said Josh, biting into his second Chalupa Supreme, “but this is better than anything Chipotle could ever roll up.” 

They had decided to eat in at Taco Bell, rather than driving through, after Tyler made the point that _there wasn't really anywhere to go other than home._

To his surprise, they'd ordered the same thing - down to the drinks - and settled into a ripped booth in the back of the store, away from the families and screaming kids. 

Tyler chuckled quietly through a full mouth at Josh’s remark, in a manner that suggested that he knew Josh had only said it to make conversation, and lessen the awkwardness of barely knowing each other. 

Tyler didn't seem to care about awkwardness. Tyler seemed comfortable with silence.

In fact, Josh thought that if it weren't for his own occasional questions and remarks, Tyler probably would have cracked open his book and started reading.

“It's probably the grease ratio,” Tyler finally said, chewing and swallowing. “Everything becomes measurably better in a deep fried shell.” 

Josh took another bite so that he didn't have to think of something else to say. 

Fortunately, Tyler went on. 

“What brought you to _FART,_ then?” he said. 

“Fart,” Josh repeated, bemused.

“Fart,” Tyler confirmed. “The group. F, A, R, T…” 

“‘Focus… America…Reach…Truth…” Josh sounded out, remembering the bold white words on the pamphlet he'd been handed. He was in awe. “ _FART._ ”

Tyler smirked. 

“I - you know how I got there,” Josh stumbled. “Like Lucinda said, my aunt found… stuff…” 

“Yeah,” Tyler interrupted, “I know that part. But I meant afterwards. There's usually an afterwards, and… you don't really seem like the type who would come lightly.” 

He stared at Josh intently over his taco while he spoke, and Josh was reminded only very slightly of a police interrogation. 

“I came lightly,” he said.

“Oh.”

“If I hadn't, she probably would’ve told my parents.”

Tyler looked like he was going to say something, but didn't. 

“Oh.” 

“And I'm leaving for school in the fall,” Josh finished. “It's a ridiculous way to spend my last couple months around here, but at least it will be short. No point putting up a fight now.” 

Tyler nodded. 

He didn't ask, and Josh didn't explain. Josh appreciated when people didn't ask him to explain. 

“So what about you?” Josh deflected, distracting himself again with his food. “Your parents make you come?” 

“Yeah, something like that,” Tyler said, setting down his taco, only half finished. 

Josh decided to ignore his burning curiosity, and to return Tyler's courtesy. He didn't ask. 

“So?” Tyler pressed. “ _FART._ What did you think?” 

He tried to guess what kind of answer Tyler was looking for. He genuinely didn't know. 

“I guess I don't get it,” Josh finally admitted. “I expected her to be more… something. Or less… nice? She knows we’re all homos or whatever, so why does she pretend to be nice?” 

“It's because we’re young,” Tyler said nonchalantly, with his mouth around his straw. 

When Josh didn't comment, he went on. 

“It's because we're innocent children, or whatever. She really believes that it's not us who are at fault, it's the myth of homosexuality created by liberals to endanger our country’s children.” 

“I'm nineteen,” said Josh.

“Yeah, eighteen,” Tyler said, gesturing to himself. “But that's not the point. As long as we're still young enough to be victims of the overall corruption of America’s youth, she can try to stop us from becoming the perpetrators. It might look like compassion, but really it's bigotry made strategic.” 

Josh blinked. 

“I think it's possible that you read too much,” he said. 

“No,” Tyler murmured calmly. “I just pay attention.” 

Josh shook his head in disbelief. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. “You’re like… you can just come out with stuff like that… why doesn’t Lucinda call on you?” 

“Oh,” Tyler said. “Yeah, well. She made that mistake once.”

“What mistake? Calling on you?” Josh wondered. 

Tyler swallowed the last of his burrito. “Yeah.” 

“What did you say?” Josh pressed, after it seemed like Tyler wasn’t planning to elaborate.

He shrugged. “Roughly what I just said to you." 

Josh’s eyes widened. “And what did she say?” 

Tyler laughed softly, looking down at his lap and trying to suppress a smile. Josh couldn’t help but notice the way the corners of his mouth scrunched up, and his top incisors peeked out from under his upper lip. 

“She said ‘ _that will do,_ ” he told Josh. “That’s all. Just ‘ _that will do,_ Tyler.” 

He finally let the full smile make it’s way onto his face, and Josh gave him a mirroring grin. 

“I can see that,” he said honestly. 

Tyler tilted his head.

“You're nineteen?”

“Did fifth grade twice.”

Tyler didn't ask, and Josh didn't explain. 

“Come on,” Tyler said, finishing his taco in two bites, and standing up to clear away their garbage before he had even swallowed. 

He paused, looking at Josh’s side of the table. 

“You shredded your straw wrapper,” Tyler said. 

Josh looked down. “Yeah. My aunt says tearing paper is the first sign of schizophrenia.” 

“Your aunt,” mused Tyler slowly, “does not sound like the kind of person I'd enjoy playing a round of golf with.” 

Josh didn't think that he could imagine Tyler playing golf with _anyone,_ but he didn't say so. 

“It's an expression,” Tyler grinned knowingly, swiping his book up off the table, and heading for the door. 

They headed back out into the parking lot, the sky measurably darker than it had been when they’d come in.

“I thought she was chill at first too,” Tyler said suddenly as he waited for Josh to unlock the car, and it took Josh’s brain a few seconds to catch up. “Lucinda,” he clarified, climbing inside. “But I figured it out pretty quickly. I don’t know, I’m... usually pretty good at first impressions.” 

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Right, okay, well. What’s your first impression of me, then?” 

“For real?” asked Tyler. 

Possibly because he wanted to play along, but also because he was burning with curiosity, Josh nodded. 

“I think it’s scary how you treated the whole thing today like a big harmless joke,” he said immediately, and Josh didn’t have to ask what he meant by _this whole thing_. “But,” he went on, “I also think it’s admirable.” 

“Oh,” Josh said, not sure what to make of this evaluation. 

“Mm.” 

“I mean,” Josh went on, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself. “The whole idea is scary, right? Like Lucinda’s obviously not joking. So you can either be fucking terrified, or you can be above it.” 

Tyler seemed to contemplate this for awhile, thrusting his lip out and looking lost in thought. 

“I suppose you could say that,” he finally surrendered. “I suppose you could also say that the idea’s a big joke, so you can either be fucking terrified, or you can see it for what it is.” 

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Josh wondered, and Tyler grinned, looking at the floor of his car. 

“Could be,” he said quietly. “Who’s to say.” 

Tyler didn’t speak again, except to give directions, until they were pulling up to his house. 

“It _is_ sort of comical though,” he finally said, unbuckling his seat as Josh slowed the car, but making no move to get out. 

Josh stared. “What is?” 

“This,” Tyler continued, gesturing back and forth between the two of them “ _Teenagers meet in church support group thingy_. All feels a bit _John Green,_ don’t you think?” 

“Oh my God,” said Josh. 

-

To Josh, _summer-before-college_ felt different from _summer-between-school-years._ Before, it had been easy to justify doing nothing at all, rationalizing laziness with the idea that this was their only reprieve from the stress of September to June, and that every day of sunshine and freedom had to be savored. 

Now, though, it seemed like Josh was the only one not actively out enjoying his spare time. As far as he saw it, summer had become no more than something to _get through,_ the last hurdle before… not freedom, exactly, but the absence of _this._

He tried to feel excited about the prospect of finally leaving his aunt’s house, of living in a dorm, no longer under an authoritative thumb; but the excitement wouldn't come. More days than not, he wondered whether college would really be an improvement over working at Chipotle for the rest of his life. 

And maybe that was why - rather than dreading it like he had expected - Josh found himself almost looking forward to his second meeting of _FART_ on the following Friday. If nothing else, it would be a break from the staggeringly uninteresting routine that comprised the rest of his weekdays. 

Maybe it was sick of him to think so, but as horrifying as the hour at Saint Stephen’s had been, it hadn’t been uninteresting. 

Tyler had been even less uninteresting. Tyler was probably the most interesting person Josh had interacted with in months, although he couldn’t pinpoint why. 

On the day before the meeting, his aunt stopped him in the entryway of her house. His Father’s sister was just tall enough to be intimidating, and looked just enough like her brother to make Josh’s stomach lurch. 

“Would you like to tell me about the meeting?” she said briskly, cocking her head, and her tone was enough to stop Josh from walking out the door. 

He turned, keys in hand, but avoided her eyes. 

“Or maybe you’d rather I -” 

“It was fine,” Josh said firmly. “The other kids are nice.” 

His aunt nodded once, sharply. 

“Glad to hear it.” 

He was out the door before she could say anything else. 

Josh had taken care not to arrive as early as he had the week previous, and this time, almost all the other chairs had filled up - including, he saw, the ones on either side of Tyler. He took a seat on the opposite side of the circle. 

He tried stealthily to catch Tyler’s eye, but not once did he look up from his book; Josh could make out a big black _1984_ on the cover - evidently, he’d finished with _The Epic of Gilgamesh._

Josh noticed a flurry of movement a few seats down from him, and looked over to see the girl who had greeted him last time - Stephanie - smiling and waving enthusiastically in his direction. 

_Oh boy._

He gave her a single, polite, perhaps overly-flamboyant wave, hoping that she’d come to the conclusion that he hadn’t yet been sufficiently brainwashed into being attracted to pretty girls. 

He was spared further interaction by the arrival of 5:00. 

Just like last time, Lucinda Lake made a TV-presenter’s entrance. Just like last time, Tyler’s nose stayed in his paperback, not once faltering, not once looking up. And, just like last time, Josh tried his best to tune everything out. 

Unlike last time, he wasn’t so lucky. Most of the hour had passed, and Josh was just beginning to think that he might get away with skirting silently through… but Josh wasn’t the new kid anymore, and it seemed that he could no longer avoid Lucinda’s questions - to which, it seemed, Tyler alone was immune. 

“Now,” Lucinda was saying, “I wonder if anyone might be able to share their experience interacting with peers over the course of this past week, applying what we just talked about in relation to holding our ground in morally gray situations. How about… Joshua?” 

Josh sat very still. 

“Anything to contribute, Josh?” Lucinda beamed. 

“Nope,” he said defiantly. “Sorry.” 

“Now Josh,” she sang. Her voice was still laced with sweetness, but it was shifting from sugary to the kind of cough syrup that was so sweet it made you gag. “I let your comment last time slide, because you were still adjusting to our community. But it’s important for you to know that it is the policy of _Focus America_ that all attendees participate in the process of their own…” 

She paused, smiling so that her back teeth showed. 

“... _salvation_ ,” she finished. 

_Two months,_ thought Josh. 

“The process of opening your mind to be redirected, onto the path from which it has strayed. You aren’t at fault, but you can be in charge.” 

Lucinda beamed, as if she’d just given him a particularly expensive birthday gift. 

“And what path would that be, ma’am?” Josh intoned. 

_Two months._

Tyler looked up from his book, eyes dancing with sudden interest. 

“I think you know the answer to that, Josh,” Lucinda hummed.

“Ohhh, right, you mean the path of heterosexuality,” Josh said with a nod, keeping his voice just on the innocent side of acerbic. 

_Just two more months._

Lucinda’s smile didn’t waver. 

“I know it can be hard to accept,” she warbled, “and I know, Josh, that I might seem like the last person you’d have a reason to listen to. But I have been doing this for a long time, and I’ve worked with enough bright, sweet kids to know that no matter how far astray you’ve been led, you _can_ be guided back to the path that it was intended for you to be on. _All_ of you have the potential to be yourself, and be _straight_.” 

The circle was silent for several moments. Only Stephanie was smiling. 

“No offense,” Josh replied, unfolding his arms. “But the straightest thing about me is my middle finger.” 

The smile slid off Stephanie’s face faster than melted butter. Lucinda coldly told the group that, regardless of their remaining ten minutes of allotted time, the meeting was adjourned. 

Josh had been sure that this time, Tyler would’ve waited for him before bolting out of the room; but just like before, he was up and out the door before Josh could even open his mouth to stop him. 

He narrowly avoided Lucinda, squeezed quickly passed Stephanie - who looked a little too eager to catch his attention - and out the door, after Tyler. 

Sure enough, when Josh threw open one of the oak front doors, Tyler was already hurrying across the parking lot, book in hand, head down. 

Josh didn’t bother to call for him this time; instead, he simply hurried across the lot, doubling his paces before falling into step at his side. If Tyler was surprised to see him there, he didn't say anything. 

They walked like that for a minute, eyes trained down, neither of them speaking, until finally, Tyler stopped. 

“Are you going to offer to drive me home again?” he asked, with a hint of a smile. 

Josh blinked. 

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Taco Bell again.” 

“But after that,” Tyler said, “you were going to offer to drive me home.”

Josh rolled his eyes, shrugged, and nodded, all at the same time. 

“Okay,” chirped Tyler, smiling and walking around the side of Josh’s car.

“Okay,” Josh repeated to himself, standing still for a moment before following. 

-

This time, they went through the drive-thru. Josh ordered himself two Cheesy Gordita Crunches, and Tyler unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to shout into the speaker that he would have the same.

“Copycat,” Josh muttered, and Tyler bit his lip and grinned.

Josh pulled the car into the far corner of the shopping center’s parking area so that they could eat without disturbance. 

“Forgot extra napkins,” Tyler noted, pulling open his first taco. 

Josh shrugged, mouth already busy. 

“Eat over the bag, I guess.” 

They let silence settle for a few minutes, punctuated only by chewing, and the rustling of cheap paper wrappers. 

“ _1984_?” Josh asked, without further explanation. 

“Mm,” Tyler affirmed, mouth full. “Summer reading list.” 

“Whose?” 

“Mine.” Tyler smiled. “Getting all the pleasure-reading in before it’s all homework, you know?” 

Josh didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. He hadn’t read a book for “pleasure” since… well, since John Green, probably. 

“So, college then?” Josh probed, and Tyler nodded. 

“College.” 

“Same,” Josh lamented. 

Tyler quietly picked at his thumbnail. His gorditas were gone.

“Not to sound like everyone’s mom’s coworker, but…” Tyler put on a robotically pleasant voice. “Where are you going in the fall?” 

Josh huffed with amusement, and shrugged a shoulder. “Just Ohio State,” he said.

Tyler cocked his head. “Just?” 

“Yeah, I mean.” Josh shrugged again. “OSU is huge. Half our graduating class is going there. It’s really no big deal to get in. I’m… pretty, like, ordinary.” 

Tyler’s thumbnail was making a clicking noise against his index finger. 

“Huh,” he said. He didn’t try to deny it, or to abate Josh’s blatant self-disparagement. He just said _huh,_ and Josh was grateful. 

“Where are _you_ going?” Josh intoned, trying to imitate Tyler’s robotic mom-voice. 

Tyler laughed through closed lips. 

“ _Yale_ ,” he said through a chuckle, sounding unsure, somehow. 

Josh swallowed a large gulp of soda involuntarily. 

“Oh,” he said simply, recovering. “Okay, wow, yeah, so. That just strengthens my point about myself.” 

Tyler took a sip of his own soda, without choking. 

“Maybe.” 

“ _Maybe_ it strengthens my point?” Josh asked. “Or _maybe_ Yale?” 

Tyler considered for a moment. 

“Both.” 

The idea that one could be unsure whether or not they were attending Yale actively stressed Josh out, but he decided not to push the issue. 

“What are - what would you study?” Josh asked, amending himself as he went, but he immediately realized the answer. “Oh, wait. Never mind.” 

Tyler smiled at him, holding up his copy of _1984_ and waving it. 

“Yeah,” he affirmed. “It’s pretty much the only thing I’m good at. But I _am_ good at it.” 

“At reading?” Josh asked. 

“At understanding,” Tyler corrected him. “But yeah, also that.” 

Josh tried to think about what he was good at. Rolling burritos, mostly. 

He told Tyler this, and Tyler shrugged. 

“That’s a very valuable skill,” he reasoned. “In fact, you could easily argue that it’s _more_ valuable and… you know, practical. No one can eat my good ideas.” 

Josh stifled laughter, and Tyler let his features crack into a matching grin. 

“I’m serious!” he went on. “People get shit for having jobs like that, or working in food for their whole lives - not that I’m saying you would, you know, but…” Tyler broke off. “It’s just not worthless, or like… a useless skill. Lots of people appreciate your burritos.” 

“Thanks,” Josh grinned.

“Plus,” Tyler shrugged. “It’s pretty ideal. Burritos whenever you want. With _guac_. Oh, and the cool little visors…” 

Josh shook his head in amazement. 

“You’ve never worked in fast food, have you?” 

“I’ve never worked,” Tyler said blankly. “Anywhere.” 

“Oh,” Josh hummed quietly. 

Tyler looked uncomfortable, fiddling with the pages of his paperback, without opening it. 

“It’s not like… we’re not super rich, or anything, if that’s what you’re…” he looked at Josh with an unreadable expression. “I probably _should_ be working, I just… it was always school…”

“You don’t have to, like, justify yourself, Tyler,” Josh said simply. 

Tyler nodded, and pulled his feet under him on the car seat. Josh took the opportunity to crumple up all of their wrappers and stick them into one bag. 

For a moment, he tried to picture the life that Tyler was describing; one that didn’t involve rolling burritos, or rolling anything. One that didn’t breed secrets and apathy. He tried to picture Tyler’s bedroom - probably full of books, he imagined. 

But that couldn’t be all of it. It couldn’t be. 

“Tell me a secret,” Josh said after a while, grasping at straws, hoping to catch some glimpse of what was happening behind Tyler’s eyes. 

He watched Tyler furrow his brow, as if sorting through all the sides of himself that he didn’t let people see. 

“I’m lonely,” he finally said. “I guess. Like, I’m… lonely.” 

Josh blew air out through his lips. 

“Huh,” he said. “That’s my secret too.” 

He noticed that Tyler’s nose was perfectly sloped, like an arrow pointing to his lips. 

Two months was starting to feel a lot shorter.

-

The porch light was on at Josh’s aunt’s house. He’d dropped Tyler off at almost 9:00, and although he had no strict curfew - he was an _adult_ , after all - Josh knew that his aunt would have questions. 

He was right. 

“Making friends, then?” she said, cornering him in her apron as soon as he was inside. 

“Sure,” he mumbled, trying to head straight for the stairs. 

“Josh, answer me when -” 

“I said _sure_ ,” Josh snapped. 

“Joshua!” she called up after him, drawing out the syllables. “You can speak civilly to me, or we can make a phone call to your parents.” 

Josh halted on the top step, and turned around. 

“I made a friend named Tyler,” he said calmly. “His parents are really nice people, and he’s been going to the group for awhile. He reads a lot. He’s going to Yale. We got tacos, and -” 

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said, raising her hand. “But Josh, you understand our deal…” 

He nodded, and sunk down on the stairs, knowing that he was about to be lectured. 

“Communication,” she said. 

“That’s all I want,” she said. 

“You know the alternative,” she said. 

Josh’s goodnight was perfunctory and polite. 

He knew the alternative. 

-

On the following Friday, Tyler was reading _One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest._

On the next one, he was reading _The Big Sleep._

On the one after that, it was pouring, and Josh’s phone vibrated with a text at 4:00 pm. 

**Tyler** : it’s raining. 

Josh snorted, thinking that to be somewhat of an understatement. 

**Josh** : yeah

 **Tyler** : would it be too much trouble if i asked you to pick me up? 

Five minutes later, he was on his way to the house that he’d been dropping Tyler off at for the last several weeks. He knew the way like the back of his hand. 

Nevertheless, when Josh pulled up to his house and encountered the the sight of a middle-aged man with an umbrella stepping out of a white mini van, he almost wished that he’d had the foresight to drive by and circle the block. It was too late, however; he had clearly noticed Josh, and was smiling broadly and gesturing for him to roll down his window. Reluctantly, but politely, Josh complied.

“Chris Joseph!” the man boomed, and Josh registered vaguely that his voice was somewhat higher than he had expected. He had positioned himself next to the window so that the umbrella was poised over the roof of the car, both keeping him dry, and preventing rain from getting inside. 

“Josh Dun,” he responded, speaking over the dull roar of the weather. “I’m a friend of Tyler’s from the uh… the church group.” He spoke hesitantly, aware that these were people who probably shared core values with his aunt. Nevertheless, he could be pleasant. 

Tyler’s father frowned. 

“Group? Something at New Albany, you mean?” 

Josh balked, backpedaling. Was it possible that Tyler’s mom, alone, was the one shipping him off to Saint Stephen’s? 

“Ah. Yeah,” Josh lied placidly, in a frantic attempt to keep whatever secret he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping. “That’s right.” 

“Well, thanks for giving him a lift then!” he said, clapping Josh on the shoulder. “I’ve seen your car pull up out here a couple times, so… y’know, it’s nice of you to be his designated driver!” 

Tyler chose that minute to shoulder his way out the front door, taking the flagstones two at a time and slipping around his father to open the door of Josh’s car with only a brief glance at either of them. 

“Oh,” Josh said dumbly, in response to his arrival “Well. It was very nice to meet you, sir.” 

“Likewise,” Chris smiled, raising a hand in farewell before heading back up the walkway. 

Tyler was already nose deep in _All My Sons_ by the time Josh had started the car again. They made it practically the whole way to the church without either of them saying a word.

“What’s _New Albany_?” Josh finally asked. 

Tyler looked up from his book, mildly surprised. 

“My church,” he said simply. “Why?” 

Josh blinked, dumbfounded. 

“You go to church?”

“Yeah.” Tyler tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t I go to church?”

“No reason,” he said hastily. “No, I just. Your parents… they don’t know, then? That you’re…” 

He hesitated. Josh had never really bothered to ask how Tyler identified. 

“Gay?” Tyler supplied. He watched Josh curiously for a moment. “I didn’t say I was.” 

“Right,” Josh corrected himself, blushing. “Yeah, no, I - just. Because of the group, I thought… or like bi, or whatever.” 

“Hm,” Tyler said. “Yeah, well, my parents are super cool with gay people. Never had a problem. My cousin’s a lesbian, and it wasn’t ever a big deal.” 

He said it casually, as if he weren't leaving a critical plot point unaddressed. 

“Then - but -” Josh stammered. “Then who’s making you come to group?” 

Tyler looked up from his book long enough to stare at him for a short moment. 

“No one,” he finally said, looking down again and turning a page. “I go by myself.” 

Josh opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. On one hand, he felt the need to ask a million more questions; but on the other, this somehow explained a lot. 

“Oh,” he said quietly, nodding and steering the car into the parking lot of Saint Stephen’s. 

He pointed to _All My Sons_ , which was noticeably shorter than anything he’d seen Tyler reading so far. 

“That probably won’t even last you until the end of the meeting,” Josh pointed out. 

Tyler closed the book and examined it. 

“Yeah, well, it’s a play,” he said, smiling for the first time since he’d gotten in the car. “And besides, this is my fourth time reading it this week.” 

-

Josh watched Tyler through the whole meeting that day. 

This time, he didn’t run out of the room afterwards. This time, he waited for Josh, and they walked to his car together. 

This time, they took their tacos back to Josh’s house. He had posed the idea tentatively, expecting Tyler to say no - but it seemed that the unspoken boundary that had kept their friendship within a square mile of the church had been in Josh’s imagination. Tyler had agreed without a second thought. 

Josh’s aunt greeted them in the front garden.

“And who is this?” she said, a pot of geraniums in her hands, and a charming smile on her face.  
Josh opened his mouth, but Tyler was quicker. 

“Tyler Joseph, ma’am,” he gushed, reaching out to wring her hand, and Josh faltered at the use of his surname. To Josh, he was always just _Tyler_. “So nice to meet you, Ms…” 

“You can call me Aunt Bridget, sweetie,” she smiled, and Josh rolled his eyes. 

“Come on, Tyler,” he murmured, stepping forward to open the door for him, and transferring the bag of tacos to his unoccupied hand. Even from here, he could smell something baking. 

Tyler looked torn between following him, and staying behind to be polite. 

“Attitude, Josh,” she warned, tone and gaze shifting quick enough to make his head spin. 

“It was… so nice to meet you,” Tyler said, sweet as ever, but following Josh nonetheless. 

“You too,” she crooned, waving after them. “You boys let me know if you need anything. I have tea, and coffee, and the ginger snaps will be out of the oven in about fifteen minutes…” 

They climbed the stairs in silence, pausing only when they arrived at Josh’s bedroom door. 

“Hm,” Tyler intoned, stepping into his room before him. 

“What?” 

Tyler shrugged looking around. 

“Nothing, just, I guess… your aunt is paranoid about gay people, and sent you to church to get _heterofied_ , but she doesn’t blink an eye when you bring a strange boy up to your bedroom?” 

Josh tipped his head back in laughter. 

“Well, if she thought that you and I were…” he looked away. “you know... that would constitute acknowledging the _issue_ in the first place.” He shrugged. “Easier just to make sure I’m going to the meetings, and assume they’re dealing with me.”

Tyler nodded, and Josh moved over to sit cross-legged against his headboard. He motioned for Tyler to join him, and he heaved himself up, leaning against the adjacent wall and stretching his legs out over the covers. 

“Was it even good porn that she found?” Tyler said suddenly. 

“Tyler, oh my _God_ …” 

“What?!” Tyler grinned. “Like, was it good? Was it worth getting caught?” 

“It was - uh…” Josh said, looking down at his knees and blushing. “I had it open to a page of tentacle porn.” 

Tyler choked, and snapped his head around, but deflated at the expression on Josh’s face. 

“You’re - oh my god, I thought you were serious,” Tyler scolded, swatting a hand out at his shoulder while Josh pursed his lips to keep from laughing. “Asshole.” 

“Nah, it was on tumblr,” Josh sighed. “Just some guy I followed jerking off. It was sweet... really fucking wholesome, actually. Not that she knows the difference.” 

Tyler blew air out through his lips in a long steady stream, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I should certainly hope she doesn’t.”

Josh laughed gravely.

“You - like, you aren’t surprised by how nice she is?” he wondered, gauging Tyler for a reaction.

“Oh, no, not at all,” he replied immediately, eyes widening. “I mean, dude, you’d be surprised. None of these parents are like… you know, they don’t think they’re doing anything wrong. As long as everything fits within their neatly arranged framework of cultural values, everything is fine and dandy. You’d be surprised how few of them are anything less than totally charming when you meet them. But the minute you do something out of that box…” 

“Shipped off to church,” Josh said, and Tyler nodded, crumpling his wrapper. 

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “And that way, they don’t have to do the work.” 

Josh was reminded of Tyler’s Sneetches metaphor. 

“The niceness is the real problem,” Tyler added quietly. “It’s what lets them get away with trying to do God’s job.” 

It struck Josh as one of the most sobering things he’d heard Tyler say. 

“Well,” Josh frowned, “it’s pretty effective, isn’t it? All the queer kids will either be brainwashed into submission, or they’ll get out and head to New York, or San Francisco. And then these people will get what they want. A city full of dead people.” 

Even as the words left his mouth, he knew it wasn’t true. Josh wouldn’t be brainwashed, but he also wouldn’t get out. The only queer kids who could really escape were the ones with money. 

Tyler picked at his nail. 

“Yale’s full of dead people,” he said. 

Josh stared hard at him. “How do you mean?” 

“Everyone there is _dead,_ and _old,_ ” he went on, reaching directly up into the air in front of him and punctuating each of his words with a flourish of his hand. “I visited with my parents in March, and I guess... I thought I was going to like it. I mean, I was supposed to like it. You don’t get into Yale and _not go._ ” 

“ _Who_ doesn’t get into Yale and not go?” Josh asked. He watched Tyler dig out dirt from under his thumbnail with a finger from the other hand. 

“Anyone? I don’t know.” 

They shifted on the bed, and Josh readjusted, leaning on his elbow.

“Do you not want to go?” he asked. 

Tyler picked and picked and didn’t answer. 

“I don’t know if you ever get this feeling,” he began after a while, looking over Josh’s shoulder and out his window. “But like… you know when successful adults talk about being young, and they... like... sarcastically mention the things they thought they wanted to do, sort of as if they’re these silly quotidien or confused notions that were necessary in order to eventually figure out what they were _really_ doing?”

“Quotidian?” Josh asked. 

“Everyday,” Tyler provided instantly. “Mundane.” 

Josh breathed in, tilting his head. 

“Yeah, I guess I know what you mean.” 

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed. “Yeah, well, when I think about Yale, or… like, doing _anything_ , I just feel so much like I’m just living inside of one of those dumb misconceptions. Like I can already hear myself in twenty years trying to reassure some eighteen-year-old about their future by telling them how at their age, I thought I wanted…” 

He drifted off, and Josh raised his eyebrows. 

“What?” he whispered. “What do you want?” 

Tyler shook his head. 

“Nothing.” 

“What do you want, Tyler?” Josh asked again, pointedly. 

Again, Tyler shook his head, eyes avoidant. 

“Why do you come to the group?” 

“Stop,” Tyler said. 

“Do you want to go to Yale?” Josh continued, ignoring him. 

“Where are your parents?” Tyler shot back loudly, cocking his head. 

Josh bristled. 

“Sorry,” Tyler immediately mumbled. “I… let’s not.” 

“No,” Josh agreed. “Let’s not. 

“It’s just - “ Tyler said very suddenly, launching off the bed as if he’d sat on something sharp. “It’s like, I worked basically my whole life to get into a good school, and obviously my parents are proud, and they want me to go, but…” 

He paced, swiveling on the spot, and looking anywhere but at the bed. 

“They weren’t even shocked or excited when I got in. I worked so hard, and they basically just thought like… _yep, figures, Tyler’s off to his smart school!_ And I know it might be a little selfish of me to say, but I needed to know… like, I guess I needed them to think it was a bigger deal.” 

He stopped, looking to Josh with an unexpected desperation in his eyes, as if begging him to agree. 

Josh swallowed. 

“Well,” he said slowly, “I mean, you probably shouldn’t be doing something just because it sounds impressive.” 

Tyler pointed a finger directly between his eyes. 

“ _Exactly._ ” 

He made his way back to the bed, picking up the copy of _All My Sons_ that he’d set down. 

“This three-act play is probably worth more than every single piece of scholarship I’d be assigned there,” he said, brandishing the book in Josh’s direction. “And, like, not to sound preachy, but you should really read it.”

Josh huffed in laughter. “I literally never read, Tyler,” he said. 

Tyler nodded, sniffing, and starting to pace again .

“That’s fine,” he said, frowning, still fumbling the book back and forth between his hands. “Do you know any poems, though?” 

“Um,” Josh blanched. “Yeah? I mean I’ve taken four years of high school English, same as you. We had to read tons of poems.” 

“No no,” Tyler said, coming closer and shaking his head. He was close to Josh. He was almost aggressively close. “Do you, like… do you _really know_ any poems. Are there poems you care about enough to know by heart?” 

Josh thought for a moment. 

“Why?” 

“Because,” Tyler murmured, leaning back again. “If there’s poetry that you care about, I want to hear it.” 

Josh shifted against the headboard. He’d be lying if he said no, and something about the solidity of Tyler’s presence next to him told him that he shouldn’t lie. He wouldn’t get away with it. 

He couldn’t understand how this boy, this one, enigmatic, well-read, tortured, _beautiful_ boy, kept dragging out parts of Josh that he himself didn’t know were there. He couldn’t lie, nor did he want to.

“There’s one,” he admitted. “Uh, by Mary Oliver? My grandmother used to read it when I was a kid, but in retrospect, I don’t… I don’t think she got what it was about, really.” It was only as he said it that Josh realized how true it was. 

“But it stuck with you,” Tyler offered. 

He nodded. 

“Yeah.”

Tyler looked expectant, and Josh realized that he was waiting for him to start reciting. 

“Okay,” he said softly, looking at the pillows of his bed - anywhere except at Tyler. “Alright. _You do not have to be good_ ,” he began, mumbling the words as fast as he could, hoping to get the whole thing over with quickly. But Tyler was stopping him before he’d even begun the second line. 

“Wait, wait,” he protested, reaching out to hold Josh’s arm as if he was trying to stop him from running away, rather than just stop him from speaking. “Do it for real.” 

Josh made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a groan. 

“Go slow, like you mean it,” Tyler went on, sitting next to Josh on the bed. “Like you want me to care about it.” 

A few moments of silence passed before Josh started speaking again. He breathed, and let Mary Oliver fill the space between them, a constant, measured flow of syllables riding on the current from his lungs. 

“ _You do not have to be good._  
_You do not have to walk on your knees_  
_For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting._  
_You only have to let the soft animal of your body_  
_love what it loves.”_

Josh bit his lip. Tyler’s eyes were closed, so he went on. 

“ _Tell me your troubles…_ wait, no.” He collected himself. Tyler waited. 

“ _Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine._  
_Meanwhile the world goes on._  
_Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain_  
_are moving across the landscapes,_  
_over the prairies and rivers.”_

Something heavy was taking root in Josh’s chest, but he told it to go back home. This wasn’t the place. He took as silent a breath as he could, and continued. 

“ _Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,_  
_are heading home again._  
_Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,_  
_the world offers itself to your imagination,_  
_calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --_  
_over and over announcing your place_  
_in the family of things.”_

Tyler was silent for a moment, his face stoic, until the tiniest crease made its way into his brow. 

His lips were slightly parted, and Josh wondered, _allowed_ himself to wonder for the briefest moment, what might happen if he were to touch them with his own. He wondered if the world would cave in. He wondered if Tyler would push him away. 

“Can you do that last part again?” Tyler said quietly. “The… _whoever you are_ …”

Josh did. 

A long, stretched silence followed. Tyler kept his eyes closed, as if he were trying to commit the poem to memory. 

When he opened his eyes, his lips followed, tugging into pink and white smile. 

“Josh Dun,” Tyler said. “I don’t think you’re as ordinary as you think you are.” 

-

The next week, Tyler stopped Josh in the parking lot of Saint Stephen’s to tell him that the poet Geffrey Davis defined loneliness as “ _that loaded asking of the body_.’”

“Also,” he added loudly over his shoulder, surpassing Josh and heading towards the oak front doors, “Mary Oliver was super gay.” 

-

On Monday, Josh worked an eight hour shift at Chipotle. On Wednesday, he checked _The Epic of Gilgamesh_ out of the library, but found it impossible to decipher. On Friday, it was time to go to Saint Stephen’s again. He didn’t mind. 

After the first couple meetings, Josh had been forced to surrender to the reality that if he continued as he was going, the level of snark he’d been dishing out was likely to make its way back to his aunt. Unfortunately, his skill for talking back was - aside from Tyler - the only thing that had made the meetings tolerable.

Luckily for the both of them however, Lucinda usually tended to be too involved in her own diatribe-of-the-week to notice that two of her attendees spent most of every hour leaned close enough together for Tyler to pick up Josh’s sardonic, whispered commentary on everything she said. 

“Remember that it’s never right to call someone names,” she was saying today. 

“ _I guess it would be wrong for me to call you a botox-casserole, then_ ,” Josh whispered, just for Tyler to hear; just for Tyler. 

“...and while nicknames like gay or fag are never okay when they’re said with malicious intent…” 

“... _unless, you know, you’re talking to your homo homie_ …” 

“...remember that these bullies might be picking up on something that it’s hard for you, yourself, to take notice of…” 

“ _Shit.. oh my god, Tyler, I think I just realized that I might like dudes_.” 

Tyler’s eyes watered with silent laughter. 

To Josh’s great surprise, so did Stephanie’s. He goggled at her, and she giggled and grinned at him from across the circle, in a way that suggested to Josh that she couldn’t possible have heard what they’d been whispering about. 

He was even more surprised when she caught up to him and Tyler in the hallway afterwards. 

“Josh!” she panted, scurrying breathlessly up behind them, and forcing them to part and turn around, forming an awkward and unlikely triangle of bodies. 

“Oh,” he startled. “Ahhh.... hey!” 

Tyler raised a questioning eyebrow at him, and Josh mirrored it in response. 

“Could I… do you mind if I talk to you alone, for a minute?” she spouted, not even once looking in Tyler’s direction. 

Josh’s heart sank. He’d been awkwardly skirting the inevitability of this conversation for weeks, but it looked like his luck had run out. 

He turned to Tyler, who raised his eyebrows, smirking slightly. 

“I’ll be… I’ll just head to the car, okay man?” he chirped, and Josh almost laughed out loud at the sound of Tyler calling him _man_. 

“Yeah… okay, _bro_ ,” he returned, and Tyler ducked his head down, disappearing around the corner. 

Josh genuinely couldn’t believe that Stephanie still hadn’t stopped smiling. He didn’t think he’d ever smiled that much in his whole life, and felt like his lower jaw would probably fall off if he tried. 

“Hi, Josh,” she gushed. He tried to imagine what the Stephanie who’d been allowed to like girls had looked and sounded like. 

“Uh,” Josh said blankly, raising a hand up and threading it absently through his hair. “Hi, Stephanie.” 

“You can totally call me Steph if you want.” The words came out all in one breath, as good as confirming his suspicions

“Cool, Steph,” he said. “Well, you know, I should probably…” 

He gestured vaguely towards the direction Tyler had left in, and Steph pursed her lips.

“I know you always hang out with Tyler Joseph after meetings,” she began, more tentative than Josh had ever seen her, “but if you ever wanted a change of pace, my mom owns a bakery in Short North, and…”

 _No,_ thought Josh, _no_ … 

“...you’re really nice, Josh…” 

_No I’m not, I’m really not, Steph,_ he shouted behind the thin line of his mouth, hoping she’d understand without him having to speak. _Don’t do this…_

“...and Lucinda and I were just chatting about how it seemed like you might be able to use a friend.” 

Josh became acutely aware of his patience dwindling. It was a familiar feeling. 

“So,” Stephanie chirped, “I’d be happy to -” 

“ _Look_ ,” Josh snapped, making her jump. “I am _not_ playing this game. I’m sorry, but I just don’t have the energy. It’s bad enough with Lake shoving this hetero shit down our throats, but I’m not gonna sit here and take it from you as well.”

Stephanie looked genuinely shocked, so he went on. 

“I’m not trying to be mean,” he explained calmly, “but we both know that you’re not really interested in me. I’m not really, _truly,_ your type. Please, just...” 

He trailed off, waiting for her to react, but Stephanie’s eyes were trained to a spot somewhere behind him. They were watery, maybe a little angry - but mostly hurt. Josh immediately felt terrible. 

“Steph, look, I don’t -” 

“Josh.” 

A familiar voice had spoken behind him, in an unfamiliar tone. 

He turned. Tyler’s face was as stern as his tone had been. 

“Josh,” he repeated. “Stop.” 

His gut twisted. 

“I’m…” he muttered. “Look, I know you understand as well as I do that -” 

“No,” Tyler said calmly. His eyes were burning with something that Josh couldn’t place. “I understand a lot better than you do. Come on.” 

And then he was pulling Josh across the parking lot and away from Stephanie. 

He turned his head over his shoulder, opening his mouth to apologize, but Tyler shook his head, and kept leading him forward. 

“That doesn’t mean anything right now,” he said grimly. “Come on.” 

“Where are we going?” Josh tried to say, but he barely got the words out before his voice was breaking, and he had to close his throat.

Tyler stopped in front of Josh’s car. 

“Taco Bell,” he said, walking around to the passenger’s side. “Drive.” 

-

Tyler didn’t say anything - save for ordering two chicken burritos - for the next half an hour. 

They drove out to their corner of the parking lot with their food, and Josh was starting to think that he would explode soon if Tyler didn’t explain, when finally, he spoke up from the passenger’s seat. 

“I know you’re dealing with stuff,” he said quietly. “But so is everyone else.” 

“Okay,” Josh said. 

“I also know that you think you knew what you were talking about back there,” he said, “but you didn’t.” 

“Okay,” Josh said. 

“Steph went to my high school,” Tyler began, “and a couple years ago, she started telling people she was bi. Our school was small, and word gets around quickly. Basically, within a few days, she was the equivalent of the _school slut_. Pretty sure she’s never so much as held hands, but _bi_ translates to _greedy_ around here. She transferred a few months later. 

Josh didn’t say okay. Josh didn’t say anything. 

“Saying you’re bi means nothing if your parents are people like Lucinda,” he went on. “Still translates to sin, as far as they’re concerned. Pretty sure she’s been coming to _FART_ ever since she transferred.” 

The twisting of his stomach that had begun in the church parking lot felt ten times worse now. 

“So,” Josh said, quietly. “She wasn’t…” 

“No,” Tyler said. 

“She actually liked me.” 

Tyler tilted his head, grimacing sadly. “Yeah.” 

He felt paralyzed. 

“I’m gay,” he whispered, under his breath. Only afterwards did it occur to him that he’d probably never said that out loud. 

“I know,” Tyler replied. He looked at Josh, eyes pained. “But she isn’t.” 

They sat in silence for what felt like a thousand years, Josh staring straight out the windshield, and Tyler staring at him. 

“It’s alright,” Tyler said quietly, after a while. 

Josh laughed - a single, humorless sound. 

“It _will be_ alright,” Tyler corrected. “It’ll be okay, because under all the bullshit, you’re a good person, Josh.” 

He’d never heard Tyler swear. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it again - at least, not in this context. 

“What I don’t understand, Josh said, not even bothering to try to sound aloof anymore, “is why she’s _still coming_. She must have her parents and Lucinda totally convinced by now. Why put herself through more meetings?” 

Tyler shrugged. 

“We all have different ways of punishing ourselves.” 

Josh blinked, and the world turned over. 

“Is that it, then?” he whispered, heart tight. 

Tyler raised an eyebrow, and Josh sat up straighter in his seat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“That’s it,” Josh realized out loud. “That’s why you come to meetings.”

“Josh.” 

“ _Tyler._ ” 

Josh tried to plead with his eyes. 

He watched Tyler take in a long breath through his nose. 

“Josh,” he repeated. “We all have different ways of punishing ourselves.”

Josh deflated. 

Tyler was punishing himself. Tyler was repenting. Tyler came to Saint Stephen’s Episcopal Church once a week for an hour and read a paperback book and blinked his long eyelashes and smiled at Josh and sat in silence and repented. 

Josh tried to understand, but he didn’t understand. His punishments had always been more tangible; had always involved the drawing of blood and the lethal glint of metal against skin. 

He wanted to reach out and touch Tyler, and _touch Tyler_ , and _never stop touching Tyler._

He didn’t dare. 

He did the next best thing, instead. Stephanie had inadvertently tipped the scales of vulnerability towards Tyler’s side, and Josh had to tip them back. 

“You remember when you asked what happened after my aunt found… the stuff? On my computer?” 

Tyler nodded, looking relieved at the change of subject. 

“You told me you came quietly,” he said. 

“Yeah.” Josh hesitated. “That’s not really the whole story.”

“No, I figured it wasn’t,” Tyler shrugged. “Go on.” 

Josh took in a long, deep breath. _Going on_ was terrifying. He’d been imagining a hundred different versions of _going on_ ever since he and Tyler had first talked. 

“I was not a good kid,” Josh started quickly, hoping that the faster he said it, the faster it would all be over. “I was a shitty, _shitty_ kid. I made life miserable for my siblings and my parents, and they mostly just took it, because they’re nice people. I mean my mom can yell, but that was nothing against… me,” he trailed off. 

“They tried grounding, therapy, taking my favorite shit away, but that just made me worse. It got to the point a couple years ago where my mom finally gave me an ultimatum: it was medication, or military school.” 

Tyler tilted his head gently. 

“Which one did you choose?” 

“Neither,” Josh murmured. “After she said that, I went outside and drove the family car through the garage door. Don’t say anything,” he cut off sharply. 

He shook his head. 

“Just don’t even say anything.” 

Tyler didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, my aunt just basically offered to take me, after that. She never got married, and she’d always been a bit of a hard ass, so I guess they thought… you know, she could whip me into shape. My parents still talk to me and everything, but at least this way, like… you know, at least my siblings don’t have to deal with me. Plus, shit’s better now,” he sighed, looking to Tyler, and then swiftly looking away. “Or something. Anyway, everything was less strained. But then the whole gay thing exploded, and my aunt decided that no one was going to _make choices_ like that under her roof…” 

They winced simultaneously. 

“Which meant that basically, my options were to go to _FART,_ or back to my parents’, which would probably mean…” 

“Military school,” Tyler finished quietly. 

“Yeah. Or, well… military college now, I guess. But I’m sure they’d find something to do with me during the summer.” 

Tyler bit his lip, shaking his head. 

“They’re really good people,” Josh shrugged. “They did their best with me, to be honest. Don’t want you, like… getting the wrong… yeah. I doubt they’d even care that I was gay. They just couldn’t…”

He trailed off, looking to Tyler. 

“I was really bad, Ty. Like you think I’m shitty now? I was really, _really_ bad before. I’m still…” he trailed off. “Not _good_.” 

“Hmm,” Tyler intoned. “No, you’re different now, Josh. I can tell. Even earlier, that was just… you were drowning. You’re a different person now.” 

“I’m not a _good_ person, though,” Josh insisted, digging his fists into the tops of his thighs. 

Tyler shrugged. 

“Neither am I, probably.” 

Several minutes of quiet passed, with just the sound of their breathing and the odd car engine starting to keep them company. 

“Josh,” Tyler said. His voice was steady. “That poem. Can you say it again?” 

“The Mary Oliver one?’” 

Tyler nodded. 

“Wait,” Tyler said, holding a hand up, before reaching down and fumbling blindly against his seat, pulling at the lever that made it tilt backwards until it was almost horizontal. Josh did the same. In one breath, they both lay down; arms curled into their chests, facing each other. Tyler pulled his legs up onto the seat with him. 

“Okay,” Tyler said. 

Josh took a breath. 

“ _You do not have to be good…”_

-

Tyler was reading _The Norton Anthology of 20th Century American Poetry_ at the next meeting. 

Josh left smiling that day, and Tyler smiled along with him, followed him to his car like it was unspoken, like it was just the way the universe worked now. It was hard to imagine a time when it wasn’t exactly like this; Tyler in his car, legs tucked under him, book closed in his lap. 

Their conversation the previous week had unexpectedly opened some kind of dam for Josh, one that he hadn’t realized he’d built (or at least, one that he’d been unwilling to acknowledge). And while Tyler had always seemed to know him a little better than he knew himself, Josh couldn’t deny that now, he’d seen things that Josh had never even thought to show anyone else. He really and truly knew Josh, probably more so than anyone had since he’d been living here. 

And something had opened in Tyler as well, enough to disrupt his routine of reading - enough for Josh to notice a yellow legal pad sticking out of his _Norton Anthology._

“Taking notes?” Josh had prodded, and Tyler’s blush had been enough to give him away. 

“Something like that,” he’d replied. 

Josh remembered Tyler’s silence when asked what he wanted to do. The idea that Tyler was a closet poet, while it shouldn’t have surprised him, had kept him warm for days. 

Today, they stayed at Taco Bell long enough for dusk to settle like disease over suburban Columbus, light wind rustling the leaves of the branches that stretched overhead. 

Josh took the long way back to Tyler’s house, winding through residential neighborhoods and going 15 miles per hour past kids on bikes. Tyler’s copy of _On the Road_ was open on his lap, but he wasn’t reading it, in favor of staring out the passenger’s window at the gradual onset of twilight and the houses passing by. 

_This was okay,_ Josh thought. This actually felt okay. If you could suspend your disbelief for a moment, and ignore where they’d come from and where they were going, one could almost pretend that this was all normal. Just two kids on a summer evening. 

“Stop here,” Tyler said, about a block from his house. 

“Stop…” 

“Here,” Tyler repeated, pointing to the shoulder. 

There was a dirt turn-around carved into the side of the road, and Josh pulled over, putting the car in neutral and turning to face Tyler in confusion. 

“Can I…” Tyler broke off. It might have been the first time that Josh had ever seen him be tentative. 

“Hmm?” 

Tyler looked frustrated, letting his legs stretch out and his feet touch the floor, not even blinking an eye when his book slid onto the mat. 

“Can I maybe try, like… I really don’t want you to feel like I’m using you, but…”

This was it. Time was slowing, and Josh’s muscles were on standby. This was actually it. After everything, Tyler was going to kiss him. 

“I was wondering if I could try holding your hand.” 

Josh let out a short laugh before he could help himself, but immediately regretted it when Tyler’s face fell. 

“You’re… you, uh. You’re worried about using me by holding my hand?” 

Tyler spoke slowly and carefully, looking directly at him. 

“Joshua,” he said, and then corrected himself. “ _Josh._ I respect you too much to make you feel like the object of my personal experimentation.” 

Josh felt everything he’d been planning to say slowly evaporate from the tip of his tongue. Oh. 

“So,” said Tyler. “Was that a yes?” 

He was fidgeting with his fingers - not picking this time, but running his left thumb and forefinger over the palm of his right hand, as if in anticipation. 

“Yeah, I - yeah, Tyler,” Josh smiled, extending his right arm and trying to pretend that he wasn’t blushing. “Yeah, we can hold hands.” 

The small grin that took over Tyler’s features at his words had been well worth the laughter, and it was a accompanied by a reddening on the apples of Tyler’s cheeks that reminded Josh of water paint on the cheeks of ceramic angel christmas ornaments. 

He reached for Josh’s hand, and Josh laced their fingers together without asking. Tyler fit him like a glove. 

“Shit,” Tyler breathed, letting out a long sigh through his nose. “ _Haaaa._ ” 

His reaction might have been funny, if Josh didn’t know him so well. This wasn’t a joke. This was real for Tyler; as real as fear could get. 

“Yeah?” Josh whispered. He squeezed gently. 

They must have sat there for about five minutes, color still full on Tyler’s cheeks, before he spoke again. 

“I like this, Josh,” he said, barely audibly, to his knees. “ _Shit._ ” 

“Ty,” Josh stressed. “That’s okay. Liking it… that’s good.” 

Tyler huffed, but whether in surrender or disagreement, he couldn’t tell. Finally, he let go of Josh’s hand, laying it back on the center console instead, and leaned in close, as if to whisper something in Josh’s ear.

Everything felt frozen as Tyler spoke; frozen breath, frozen bodies, frozen time. 

“Maybe I could try… if you want…” 

He was so close, Josh thought. He was breathing Josh’s air. 

“You can do whatever you need, Tyler,” he whispered. He wondered if the air from his words would reach Tyler’s lungs. He wondered if the heat of the evening would melt their frozen bodies, or if they would stay like this, on the brink of something, forever. 

He watched Tyler’s eyelids flutter shut, his mouth pursing into a thin and frustrated line. 

“Josh,” he lamented quietly, eyes pressed shut, and brow furrowing in concentration. “Josh, I… keep thinking about that poem.”

He didn’t need to ask which poem Tyler meant. 

“You want me to say it?” Josh whispered. 

Tyler shook his head slightly, his bangs almost brushing Josh’s. 

_He was so fragile_ , Josh thought. Why had he never noticed how delicate Tyler looked; his hands, his jaw. 

“I keep thinking, that line…” Tyler swallowed, hard, and let out a long, shaking breath. “‘ _You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves_.’” 

Josh leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. 

Tyler jumped a little in surprise, and it took a minute before there was any give in his lips, but when it happened, it happened all at once. Shoulders falling, Tyler’s body melted like putty into his, and Josh took his hand again, reminding him that liking it is good, _it’s good, you’re good._

He pulled back long enough to notice that in the dark of the car, Tyler's eyes looked almost black, dancing with orange from the streetlight above. They fluttered shut as Tyler parted his lips, chest heaving, breathing, giving. He leaned forward and gave Tyler his mouth again. 

A single squeeze of his hand. A reminder - _you’re good._

But Tyler didn’t need reminding. For once, he wasn’t stiff or coy; he was letting go, surrendering to that loaded asking of his body, right here in Josh’s car, loving what it loved - and Josh was loving back. 

He was wild. They were wild. His tongue was in between Tyler’s lips, and they were wild. 

-

At first, Josh thought that everything was going to be different. After he finally dropped Tyler off that night, all blushes and small smiles, he drove home holding his breath, afraid that if he let air into his lungs, oxygen into his brain, he would be letting himself feel what he was terrified to feel: like nothing in the world could ever be bad again; that this was what his storyline had been building to. Everything he’d put himself through, all the apathy and misery and unfairness, seemed entirely bearable and justified if it had all been leading him to this, to Tyler, kissing him in his car. 

And then, nothing. 

It wasn’t simply an absence of interaction; from the minute he’d stepped out of Josh’s car, Tyler seemed to drop off the face of the earth. No calls, no texts, and Josh felt the distance like a tangible object. 

On the Friday that they’d kissed, Josh had sent Tyler a single text later that night, almost involuntarily - because the world had turned over, and even though he couldn't say anything about it, he couldn't say nothing at all. 

**Josh:** so i figure i’ll read All My Sons if you buy me a copy. deal?

He'd stayed up a little too late waiting for a reply that didn't come.

On Saturday, he distracted himself with his usual eight-hour closing shift, and didn’t check his phone before bed, certain that he’d have a message in the morning. 

On Sunday, he attributed Tyler’s silence to church. 

On Monday, he started to panic. 

By Tuesday, he’d given up. 

What had felt like a consummation, a climax, was beginning to feel like an illusion. Had Josh mistaken a momentary lapse in judgment on Tyler’s part for something more than it was? 

_No,_ he continued to remind himself. There had been no miscommunication, no sleight of hand. That kind of intimacy couldn’t be artificed. 

On Wednesday, Josh decided that as long as he could make it until group on Friday, he’d be okay; they’d be okay. Tyler needed time to process, and Josh was willing to give it to him. When they saw each other on Friday, everything would be okay. 

But for the first time since they’d met, Tyler was not at Saint Stephen’s at 5:00 pm. The hour bore on as usual, Lucinda’s eyes skimming mindlessly over Tyler’s empty chair. To Josh it felt like an entire planet was missing from their orbit, changing the gravitational pull enough to throw absolutely everything off balance; to everyone else, nothing had changed. 

Stephanie smiled politely at him as she left, and guilt burned hot in his stomach. 

Josh forced himself to take another stab at reading _The Epic of Gilgamesh_ when he got home, hoping that he’d get another taste of that fleeting closeness he’d felt, or at least gain some clarity; hoping that this time, or the next time, or _the next time_ , it would make sense. But it didn’t make sense. 

Nothing made sense. 

-

His doorbell rang before his phone. 

All this time, Josh been waiting for a text, a call; but here was Tyler, on a Sunday afternoon, standing on his doorstep in what Josh realized what must have been his church clothes, and holding a package wrapped in bright gold paper.

Josh couldn’t find a single thing to say, but Tyler seemed to find both pleasantries and preamble unnecessary. 

“This is for you. It’s, ah…” Tyler hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot on the front step. “It’s a birthday present.” 

Josh didn’t move.

“My birthday was in June,” he said. 

“Right,” Tyler went on quickly. “Yeah. Like three days before we met. Nineteen on the eighteenth, and I missed it, didn’t get to tell you happy birthday or anything. So. Here we are.” 

He held out the package again, and Josh took it. It looked and felt like a thin book. It was Tyler; it couldn’t have been anything else. 

“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Tyler said suddenly. “And a lot of reading.” 

That was no surprise. 

“What did you find out?” Josh asked quietly. 

A breeze rushed its way past the door, rustling the package’s immaculately curled ribbons. Josh wondered if Tyler had curled them himself. 

“Nothing,” Tyler admitted. “I found out nothing. They don’t write stuff about this, they don’t tell you…” 

He ground the palm of his hand into his forehead. 

“They don’t tell you what to do.” 

“Lucinda tries,” Josh reminded him. 

Tyler nodded, a humorless laugh escaping him, immediately getting carried away by the breeze. 

“Yeah, fuck.” Tyler grimaced through a smile. “Lucinda sure does try.” 

They stood there for a few more moments, Josh feeling utterly unsure of what he was supposed to do now. Did he invite Tyler inside, and up to his room, like he would have before last Friday? Was this the part where they went back to how it had been?

“I think I do know one _bad way_ to handle it, though,” Tyler mumbled, looking suddenly uneasy. 

“Oh?” said Josh. “What’s that?” 

“Ignoring you like an asshole and pretending it didn’t happen,” he said quickly. 

Josh said nothing, and tried not to look satisfied. 

He thought that the birthday present was probably going to be a copy of _All My Sons_ \- maybe even Tyler's own copy. It would be weird to unwrap it now, though. 

“I want to kiss you,” Tyler whispered, staring at his shoes. “I’d really like to kiss you again right now, but I feel like that might make things worse. For you, I mean. Like, I don’t need to hurt you anymore -” 

“Tyler,” Josh interrupted him. 

Tyler flicked his eyes up. 

“You don’t need to worry so much.”

He only looked like he half-believed him, but Josh would take what he could get. 

“Okay,” Tyler allowed, looking like he was hovering in a moment of indecision, somewhere between moving forward and staying where he was. “Okay.” 

Josh stood still, and Tyler hovered for another moment, before leaning in and kissing him gently, once, on the lips. He let the feeling of warmth and gentle pressure overwhelm him for a moment, drowning in softness, until Tyler pulled away. 

“Okay,” Tyler said for a third time, cheeks pink. “Alright.” 

It almost looked like he was wondering whether to smile. Josh smiled for him, just the smallest turning up of his lips, and Tyler, as if he had been waiting for permission, followed suit. 

“You should open that,” he added, gesturing to the wrapped package that Josh was still holding, the wrapped package that was probably _All My Sons._

“Yeah,” Josh agreed, trying so hard not to smile, and betray how much he delighted in the feeling of their mouths pressed together, how much he wanted to ask Tyler to kiss him again. “I’ll let you know when I do.” 

“Yeah,” Tyler echoed. “And text me. If you want.” 

Josh wanted. 

Once he was sure that Tyler had turned the corner, he took the package upstairs to his room and pulled the wrapping paper off the book inside. It wasn’t _All My Sons_. It was _The Sneetches,_ by Dr. Seuss. 

In the privacy of his bedroom, Josh cried. 

-

The changes to their routine were subtle. 

Mostly, he and Tyler began to find more and more excuses to spend time together. There was only so much they could do within the confines of Saint Stephen’s, so by mutual agreement, they stopped limiting their Taco Bell trips to Fridays, spreading them throughout the week instead. As vulnerable as it was for Josh to volunteer so much of his company, it was equally rewarding; togetherness, he was starting to find, was not as scary as he’d convinced himself it would be. 

There were other benefits, too. 

He and Tyler would still park the car in the corner of the plaza, but now, the distance served not only to isolate them from social encounters, but to shroud them on the outskirts where no one was likely to walk - where no one was likely to see them, curled shyly in the back, or into the same bucket seat, chests close and mouths closer. 

Their tacos went unopened for hours sometimes; other times, they didn’t have the patience to go through the drive-thru first. Most times, Josh’s aunt was already asleep when he got home. 

Only rarely did it bother Josh that he still hadn’t seen inside Tyler’s house. Only once in awhile did he consider how _real_ a relationship could be when it was built inside of cars and parking lots, and inside a Sunday school room where it wasn’t allowed to exist. What did they know about each other, after all? What did they really know? 

_Everything,_ Josh always concluded. Tyler knew everything that mattered. He might not know Josh’s blood type, or his parents’ names, or the street he’d grown up on - but all that seemed utterly meaningless compared to the miracles that Tyler had coaxed from the farthest corners of his soul. Josh still didn’t know how he’d done it, or what had compelled him to give so much of himself away - except maybe that one or both of them had sensed, somehow, that they were cut from the same mold. Josh didn’t need to know Tyler’s favorite color when he knew what the ridge behind Tyler’s top teeth felt like against his tongue. 

It wasn’t all so simple; Tyler still spent the majority of their closeness in a state of insecurity; he still hesitated, and looked away, and needed permission to breathe. 

But alongside every hesitation, Josh still held his hand; Josh still fashioned his arms and his chest into a vessel for Tyler to melt into. Josh still whispered into his ear and reminded him, reminded him, _you do not have to be good._

In their eagerness to hold onto every angle of each other’s bodies, their hours in the car sometimes found both of them at the mercy of one another’s wandering hands, uncovering freckles, and bug bites, and the white ridges of old scars. Evening after evening drove them further into their cautious discoveries, dipping under shirts and brushing soothingly along waistbands, though never further. Josh’s hands wanted to wander further, and wanted to let Tyler’s wander further, but he was stopped only by the constant, prickling reminder that no one’s hands had wandered there other than his own. 

They seemed equally reserved in this matter, and Josh’s first instinct was to assume that Tyler’s inexperience paralleled his. But the more he thought about it, the more Josh was forced to consider the heavy and cloying idea that Tyler’s impulse for repentance had to have stemmed from _somewhere._

He both wanted to think about it, and didn’t. 

Either way, it never escaped Josh that simply in order to do this, to be with him like this in the silence of his car, Tyler had to do the opposite of everything he’d programmed himself to do. He had to let the walls of his belief fall down, or at least reconfigure themselves to write Josh into their definition of love. He had to betray a part of himself which - though Josh knew it had been condemned and shrunken away by the base reality of his attraction - was still there, and still plagued him, to a certain extent. 

It didn’t escape Josh. He didn’t let it. 

-

On the third Friday in August - the last weekend before all the high school-aged _FART_ attendees would return to school - Lucinda Lake relocated their final meeting to the dust-defying pearl-white interior of her own living room. 

“Think there’s any chance we could still get out of this?” Josh said, disgruntled, watching Tyler buckle his seatbelt before he backed his car out of the Josephs’ driveway. 

“Nah,” Tyler sighed. “It’s the last one. Might as well go out with the bang. Plus, wouldn’t want to miss what I’m sure will be a _thrilling_ final lecture.” 

Simultaneously, they pulled gagging faces. 

As a _special treat_ , Lucinda had organized a final discussion that would include not only her usual sermonizing, but pre-prepared contributions from anyone in the group who felt compelled to speak on the subject. Far from compelled, Josh could hardly even remember what the subject was. The content of the last few meetings had been nothing more than a muffled soundtrack for Josh’s hour-long contemplation of the way Tyler’s muscles shifted every time he turned a page of _The Outsiders._

“Yeah,” Josh allowed. “The grand finale, and then it’s finally over.” 

Of course, Josh knew perfectly well that Tyler could easily choose not to go. No one was forcing him to attend, nor would anyone outside of the group know any different if he didn’t. And although he couldn’t imagine the alternative, it did puzzle and unsettle Josh slightly to see that even after everything that had change, Tyler was still showing up at Saint Stephen’s without fail. 

He wasn’t sure whether Tyler was there just to keep Josh company, or whether somehow, the term of contrition that he’d sentenced himself with wasn’t yet complete. Josh hoped for the former, but feared the latter. 

“This is it,” Tyler piped up, poking at the GPS on his phone as Josh slowed the car to a stop. Lucinda Lake’s house was sprawling and suburban, with - fittingly - an overly pleasant exterior, as if it was compensating for something inside. 

Josh blew a stream of air through his lips. 

“Hey -” he said suddenly, voice low. “Thoughts today?” 

It had been a few days since he’d asked. 

“Today…” Tyler said carefully, “I want the entire Ivy League system to go screw itself.” 

Josh nodded pensively, bottom lip stuck out. 

“But tomorrow, I might be thirsty to have a bucketload of pretentious knowledge and discourse shoved up my butt.” 

“Wow, who needs Yale when you can write poetry like that already?” he said with mock gravity. “But, you know, it’s getting down to the… whatever…” 

Tyler’s lip went back to its home between his teeth. 

“I know,” he said, checking his phone for a distraction. 

Something bright and bouncy passed by the windshield, sending a quick wave in their direction before heading inside. 

“Who was that?” Tyler spoke, looking up from his phone.

“Uh,” Josh stumbled, shifting uncomfortably. “Stephanie. I don’t know… I don’t know why she’s being so nice to me.” 

Tyler made a pensive sound. 

“I think she might just, like, be nice,” he offered. 

It didn’t make sense to Josh. 

“Do you think she knows that we’re…” he wondered, trailing off when he realized that he didn’t know how to finish his own question

Tyler fidgeted, but shrugged. “Even if she realizes, she probably won’t let herself believe it. Sucks, but… she seems to have mastered the whole cognitive dissonance thing.”

“Not her fault though,” Josh said tentatively, trying to say the right thing, trying to learn. 

“No,” Tyler agreed firmly. “Not her fault. Sucks even more for bi or pan kids sometimes, you know? Easier to be shunted towards one half of your attraction, and hide there forever, basically. Works like a charm. You almost start to believe it yourself.” 

Josh looked at Tyler, and Tyler looked down at his hands, face a little too casual. 

“Is that…” Josh paused, voice quiet, “is that you?” 

Tyler let his head rest against the back of the passenger seat. 

“I guess,” he shrugged. 

“Bi?” Josh probed softly. “Pan?” 

He sighed through his nose and chewed at his lip. 

“One of those, yeah,” Tyler offered. “But right now - to run the risk of sounding absolutely over-the-top - the only thing by which I’m bothering to define my attraction is, like, you.” 

Josh blushed, and Tyler was all smiles. 

“Pull the car down the block so I can kiss you before we have to go,” Tyler said briskly. 

Josh was more than willing to comply. 

-

It felt like a pseudo-rebellion to sit on Lucinda’s $3,000 couches, listening to her wax profound about how much progress their little cohort had made over the last two months. Josh took a certain pleasure in knowing - considering how they’d been making out not five minutes ago in the car - that their progress was not the kind Lucinda was looking for. 

This satisfaction kept Josh sane through Lucinda’s opening monologue, and through a few of his peers’ speeches about their own progress. The knowledge that this was the last hour of _FART_ that he’d ever have to sit through, combined with the tickle Tyler’s foot knocking affectionately against his every once in awhile, made the meeting go fairly quickly. 

In fact, when Lucinda announced that Stephanie would be the final person to share, Josh was surprised that they were already nearing the end. He tried to send a polite smile in Stephanie’s direction as she rose to the front, but didn’t manage to catch her eye. 

“Um. Well,” Stephanie began, and Josh was surprised to see a nervousness in her affect that he’d never noticed before. “My reflection on what I’ve learned is, like, a message to young people who identify as LGBT.” 

Josh rolled his eyes, leaning back to zone out again, but Tyler nudged him with his ankle, looking at Stephanie with curious attention. 

“What?” Josh hissed, and Tyler just shook his head minutely. 

“Lucinda hates that acronym. Like _hates it_. Steph wouldn’t be using it unless…” he trailed off, tilting his head as Stephanie began to speak. Josh chanced a look at Lucinda, but she wore her usual plaster-cast smile. 

“So…” Stephanie began again. “I guess my main message is that God is the one who created every single aspect of you. He knows you better than anyone knows you, including yourself sometimes, and he wouldn’t make a mistake in how he made you.” 

Josh slumped in his chair, tuning out the next few minutes of what Stephanie said. Tyler, however, did not. His eyes stayed on her the whole time, with such a rigid interest, that Josh eventually forced himself to tune back in. 

“...so if you can take comfort in that,” Stephanie was saying, “and realize that you weren’t created _wrong_ , you’ll be able to live your life in a way more positive and… and profound way.” 

She paused, flicking her eyes up, and Josh could have sworn that she had glanced directly at them. 

Tyler had evidently seen the same thing.

“Is she like…” Josh whispered under his breath, “saying…” 

Tyler raised his eyebrows, turning his lips downward and nodding in a surprised affirmative. 

“And when you realize that, you can start to feel like yourself again,” she finished in a rush. “So, yeah. That’s what I’ve learned.” 

Hurriedly, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and took her seat once again. 

“Bravo, Stephanie,” Lucinda exclaimed, sweeping from her chair to replace Stephanie at the front of the room. “What a _wonderful_ message to send to those people who have lost sight of their origins, and their relationship with faith. It is absolutely important to take comfort in remembering that none of us are _born_ with feelings that God has actively condemned.” 

Josh’s heart rose into his throat as he watched Tyler’s face slowly mold from confusion into rage. 

“Those thoughts and feelings come from elsewhere,” Lucinda went on. “And even though they might be tempting to act on -” 

“That’s not what she meant,” interrupted Tyler loudly from beside him, and Josh realized with a pang that after all this time, he’d never seen Tyler say a single word to Lucinda until now. 

Stephanie’s face was strained. 

“Tyler, it’s okay,” she hissed quietly, shaking her head at him from across the circle. 

“Yes, Tyler,” drawled Lucinda. “It seems to me that Stephanie is plenty capable of speaking for herself.”

“Yeah, she spoke beautifully,” spat Tyler, rising from his chair. “But no one seems to have listened.” 

Josh’s heart was racing, and although his instinct told him to say something - to stop Tyler from digging himself into this hole - he found that he couldn’t bring himself to speak. There was something mesmerizing about watching this version of Tyler that he’d never seen before; and yet, now that he had seen him, Josh couldn’t imagine how he hadn’t noticed him there all the time, lurking beneath Tyler’s composed exterior. 

Lucinda’s smile was like acid, spreading across her face as she tilted her head. 

“Now, Tyler,” she began, rising to his level. “I’m glad you’re responding to this with such enthusiasm, because it’s actually quite important for someone like you to understand; someone who - shall we say - seems to think that there’s nothing new for him to learn.” 

She was hitting Tyler where it hurt, and she knew it. So did Josh. 

“Stephanie has made an excellent point,” she went on, advancing across the carpet. “God _does know_ everything. He knows what’s right for _you._ So when you’re looking at something that he’s told you that you cannot have…” 

Her eyes darted to Josh for a split second. 

“...as tempting as it is, the best thing you can do is trust in the Lord, and submit to his will.” 

Anyone else in the room might have mistaken Tyler’s stagnant silence as backing down. But Josh, who knew him for who he was - fidgety, sharp, and quick to the chase - watched him with rapt attention. Even from his chair, on the outskirts of the action, Josh felt as if he were suspended over a cliff face, and that Tyler’s stoic expression was nothing more than the calm before the storm. 

“Ty,” Josh tried quietly, unsure of what he was even warning against. Stephanie hadn’t spoken again, but the same warning flashed across her eyes. 

Tyler exhaled. 

“God knows everything,” he said, with a quietness that Josh could feel in his bones “You’re right. And since he knows everything, that means he knows that I’m queer. If he makes everything happen, and he knows and plans every single thought in my head, then I guess you can thank him for making me fall in love with a boy.” 

Josh thought the whole room might have heard his heart flip over, but everyone’s eyes were still on Tyler, or on Lucinda, or on the space between them that seemed to crackle with the electricity of their muted, mutual rage. 

There were tears Tyler’s his eyes, but his voice was fiercely steady. 

“God gave me every single one of my feelings and desires, right?” he went on. “He knows what I’m thinking at every single moment. He knows when I’m thinking about dying, or thinking horrible things about people, or thinking about my _boyfriend,_ ” he paused, “and how much I want him to _fuck me_.” 

Every single pair of eyes in the room turned to Josh, including Tyler’s. Something glinted in them that hadn’t been there before.

“God knows me,” Tyler said, shaking his head and turning back around. “He’s not the only one I want to love, or live for. And if submitting to him means I can’t submit in the ways I really want to, then I’m over it,” he snarled. “Because _that’s_ salvation to me.” 

Lucinda opened her mouth, veins visible in her neck, but Tyler was faster. 

“And please don’t try to tell me that _people who are older than wiser than I am have thought about this so that I don’t have to,_ because you can believe me when I say I’ve thought this through. I’m choosing to live for a God who doesn’t condemn my love. And I’m genuinely sorry that you can’t say the same.”

When Tyler turned around this time, Josh was ready for him. Tyler stared, and he stared back, and a million things passed between their eyes that the English language didn’t have words for. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Josh breathed. 

Tyler nodded once, drawing flat fingers under his eyes, and it was like the tears were never there. 

“Yeah.” 

Every instinct told Josh to comfort Tyler as they left the room, but his senses, his reason, told him not to. They were right. Tyler was the one to take his hand when he stood, the one to pull Josh towards the door without a second glance. 

“Tyler,” Lucinda scathed from behind them, stalking forward in an attempt to block his exit. Josh had never seen her look more angry, or less composed. “Tyler, you do _not_ have to give up like this. Somewhere inside of you, there is a straight boy trying to be saved.” 

The entryway rung with silence for several moments. Finally, Tyler reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, and for a split second, Josh thought that he was going to agree with her. And then, for an even scarier second, he wondered if maybe Tyler was going to slap her. 

He did neither.

“The straightest thing about me is my middle finger,” he said calmly. 

Josh had never smiled harder in his life. 

-

The euphoria of rebellion wore off the minute Josh started the car. Tyler’s satisfied smile had long since slipped off his face, replaced by a bitten lip and a worried, pained expression. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Josh could hear him saying under his voice as he tried to navigate back the way they came. “That was bad. That was not good.” 

Josh thought it was the best thing he’d ever seen, but he didn’t say so. Tyler was in crisis. 

“I lied,” he lamented, voice high pitched and choked. 

“You… which part?” Josh worried, speeding out of the suburbs. 

“I’m not over it,” Tyler rushed, gasping for air. “I care about living for... I still fucking _care_ …” 

“Tyler,” Josh said loudly, not bothering to soften his voice “This may seem obvious. Like stop me if it’s obvious, but... you can live for God _and_ want boys to fuck you.” 

Tyler stared at him. 

“Boys?” he said, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “With an ‘s’?”

Josh took a deep breath, steeled himself, and said what he meant. 

“You can live for God and want _me_ to fuck you.” 

Tyler’s next breath came in a hundred different pieces. Josh drove them back to his aunt’s house without being asked. 

“Josh,” Tyler whispered, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the car. 

“Josh,” he breathed, up the empty driveway and through the front door. 

“Josh,” he simpered, letting Josh take his hand and lead him upstairs, floating on air through his floor frame, looking weightless and breathless and flushed against the faded blue of his wallpaper. 

“Josh,” he gasped, all the way into Josh’s bed. 

“ _Please_.” 

Josh answered him with his mouth on Tyler’s jaw and his fingers splayed under his shirt. His skin was so much softer than Josh had imagined; downy, almost, and heaving with the newness of this contact. 

“Tyler,” Josh hummed, slipping his name in between Tyler’s breathy and tapering repetitions of his own. “ _Ty._ ” 

Tyler was red in the face, eyes half closed, and Josh had to catch himself from diving into an ocean of new territory without so much as a raft, without even knowing how to swim. 

“What do you want?” he whispered, rough, letting Tyler’s comfort and Tyler’s pleasure be his compass. 

“Feel good,” Tyler breathed out, his body almost vibrating from anticipation. “Want to feel… with you.” 

Josh’s heart sped up in his throat, every ounce of hesitation gone. He could do that. _He could do that._

But Tyler was hesitating. Tyler was sitting up, and coming to a full stop. 

“I might…” he breathed, eyelashes heavy over his heavy, dark eyes. “I might not be…” 

He couldn’t finish, nor did he need to. Josh was already leaning forward. 

“ _You… do not…_ ” he spoke into Tyler’s neck, lips meeting the skin, licking, nipping, between the utterance of every word, “ _have... to be… good._ ” 

Tyler’s head hit the pillow with a gasp, baring more skin, and Josh’s lips set out on a tender pilgrimage down the side of his throat. 

“ _You do not have to walk on your knees_ ,” he went on, journeying further. 

“... _for a hundred miles through the desert…_ ”

He exhaled a breath along his collarbone. 

“... _repenting._ ” 

He kissed over Tyler’s heart. 

Josh felt Tyler’s limbs curl in, arms coming to clutch at the back of Josh’s neck and lips falling open in a groan. He inched upward, and tilted his lips towards Tyler’s ear again to whisper into it, his mouth wet and hot against the skin. 

“ _You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves_ ,” he breathed. 

Tyler arched at his words, and Josh took the opportunity to run his palms underneath Tyler’s back, holding him in both hands, holding the softness of his body close to his own. 

“Keep going,” Tyler breathed, and Josh didn’t bother to wonder which part he meant, both reattaching his lips to Tyler’s torso, and re-employing them to kiss and recite and enjamb his way down to his navel, pressing poetry inside. 

Though he had never allowed himself to imagine this moment in vivid detail, Josh nevertheless felt sure that nothing could have prepared him for the way that Tyler’s skin stretched over the curves of his hips, making smooth and gradual hills from the ridges of bone. He kissed along each one. 

“ _Meanwhile…_ ” he heard Tyler mumble above him, head lolling and face fervid. “ _Meanwhile the sun…_ ” 

It took him a moment to process the Tyler’s words; when he did, Josh could feel every cell in his body catch fire. He took over for Tyler, who was losing more and more breath with every word. 

“ _Meanwhile_ ,” he continued into the warmth of Tyler’s abdomen, moving across the landscape of his hips, over mountains and the rivulets of sweat that had formed in the creases of his thighs. 

“ _Meanwhile, the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again_.” 

Josh’s mouth made its home in the uncharted valley between Tyler’s thighs. 

His boxers came off in a hastened combined effort that left each of them panting more than it should have; but Josh wasn’t deterred. With a hand on the swell of each thigh, he drew close, letting breath and chin and lips make contact with Tyler’s waiting, reddening, dick. He had thought, given his own anatomy, that the mechanics of this would be familiar, nothing new; but the heat and heaviness of Tyler’s dick against his mouth was so much hotter, so much more than he had bargained for, and it had Josh’s head reeling, his heart hammering in his chest. 

With his mouth around Tyler, the poem fell away; but nevertheless, Josh could feel every single word, as if they were written into his biological code; he knew them so well that they echoed through his motions in some sensory system that had nothing to do with sound. 

Tyler’s response was equally wordless, all writhing hips and fisted hands. Over and over he offered himself to Josh, twitching up and into his mouth with unfocused abandon. Josh acted on instinct, letting Tyler fill his mouth, and fill his hands where they gripped his waist, his ribcage ballooning with each deep, desperate, breath. 

When he pulled off, it was only to resume his trail of kisses, mouthing gently around Tyler’s base and his balls, and drowning in the sensation of coarse hair on his lips. It was the only thing on Tyler’s entire body that wasn’t soft, and Josh loved it. 

Tyler’s legs fell open further, and Josh took the invitation, letting go of his waist in favor of pressing a hand to the underside of each of his thighs. He plunged down, further, deeper, guided by instinct and by Tyler’s shortening breaths, until he was low enough to press a flat, hot tongue between the folds of Tyler’s ass. 

If Tyler hadn’t been his already, he was now. There were hands in Josh’s hair, and thighs clenching around his ears, and enough heat to start a fire between their bodies. 

Whether his mouth was the first one to have traveled this far seemed entirely unimportant now that he was here, and Josh couldn’t believe that he’d ever bothered to waste time wondering. It was closer than he’d ever been, to Tyler or to anyone, and he never wanted to leave. 

And in any case, Tyler’s hands were so firm on his scalp and his neck that Josh couldn’t move if he wanted to; even when he tried to bring his mouth back to his dick, trying to bring him closer and undo him further, Tyler pressed down to keep him there. Between breaths, Josh felt his heart flood with a kind of euphoric pride at the idea that Tyler was finally willing to ask for what he wanted, and that Josh was the one who got to give it to him, to make him shudder violently and spill oaths from his mouth. 

With one hand white knuckling the sheets and the other cupped firmly on the back of Josh’s neck, Tyler had no hands with which to touch himself. But Josh had hands for him, snaking an arm around his thigh to squeeze and grip and jerk Tyler to his finish, until he was groaning and coming with his ankles digging into Josh’s shoulders. 

Josh kissed back up the way he came, landing next to Tyler on the bed. With an index finger, he traced the same route, drawing a trail through the come on Tyler’s stomach. 

His own clothes were still on, and he kept them there. Josh was much more interested in watching Tyler breathe, and blush, and shiver with aftershocks. 

“Jesus,” Tyler sighed, the minute he could catch his breath, chest still heaving and arm thrown over his face. It could have been an expletive or a prayer; Josh thought it was most likely both. 

He lowered his arm, and turned his face, flushed and giddy and beautiful and wild. 

“And they say _I’m_ the poetic one.” 

-

This time, things really did change. 

The next time Friday rolled around, Josh picked Tyler up at 5:00 and brought him straight back to his house, past the Taco Bell and past Saint Stephen’s Episcopal Church, all the way up to his bedroom, where he let Tyler undress him, undo him, rub him raw, until he was bucking his hips up into his hand, Tyler whispering blank verse and nonsense into his ear as Josh gasped and whined and came and came and came. 

The day after that they did the same, and the day after that, and the next one too, taking each other in turn. 

_FART_ was over for the summer, but regardless, Josh felt sure that neither of them would have been invited to return. To his genuine surprise, Lucinda had never followed up with Josh’s aunt about the incriminating content of Tyler’s outburst in her living room - although he very much doubted that her silence was out of concern for Josh’s wellbeing. He suspected that the most likely explanation was that she was simply ready to be done with the pair of them, and didn’t consider her involvement with either of their families to be a worthwhile investment. 

As far as Josh could tell, though, there were no regrets from either of them. 

As the summer began to taper off into fall, so did Tyler’s unending supply of books. He’d had his _Norton Anthology_ with him practically every time Josh had seen him over the course of the last two weeks - although Josh was beginning to suspect that it was mostly serving as a means to conceal the yellow legal pad that had also begun to accompany Tyler everywhere he went. 

Josh hid his delight well. 

On the last weekend before Josh was scheduled to move into his OSU dorm, Tyler came into his room without bothering to hide the notepad in a book. 

From his position on the bed, Josh watched him shrug off his jacket, placing it haphazardly on a stack of cardboard boxes, the remnants of Josh’s equally haphazard attempt at packing up his possessions to be moved. 

“How’d you throw off the Wicked Witch of the Midwest?” he wondered aloud. “I heard you guys talking downstairs, figured she’d probably want to read you several bible verses and force-feed you a three course meal.” 

“Ah, easy!” said Tyler, eyes sparkling along with his grin “Told her I had to get going, on account of how my boyfriend was probably waiting naked for me upstairs.”

Tyler cackled in laughter as Josh swallowed an overly large gulp of red bull and went into a coughing fit. 

“So imagine what a disappointment it was for me to turn up and find you clothed. Make a liar of me yet.” 

“Oh my god,” Josh said, spluttering into the back of his hand. “Don’t even _joke_ about that, I think she would have set the house on fire.” 

Tyler’s grin lasted him all the way over to the desk chair next to Josh’s bed. 

“So,” he piped up. “Did you do it?” 

Josh tensed, shifting. He’d been bracing himself for Tyler to ask about the deal they’d made days before - the solemn and emotional compromise that they would both capital-T- _Talk_ to their parents before the school year began. 

As it turned out, Tyler had followed through with his end of the deal the very next day. As he’d recounted it to Josh, Tyler had been met with kind laughter and assurances from both of his parents that his sexuality wasn’t news to them. He’d played it off like it was nothing, but Josh hadn’t missed the distinct sound of drying tears in his voice over the phone. 

“Not yet,” he said guiltily. 

For a minute, he wondered if Tyler was going to berate him, or roll his eyes. But when the next moment found Tyler rolling onto the bed next and playfully nudging him over to make room, Josh wondered how he’d ever been worried. 

“It’s okay,” Tyler said simply, crossing his legs in the air. “You will.” 

Josh nodded, and Tyler let his legs fall down, bent and resting over Josh’s straight ones. 

“There is one thing, though,” Josh said quietly, avoiding Tyler’s eyes. “There’s - well, I talked to someone else.” 

Tyler lifted his head up slightly from the pillow, nodding for him to go on. 

Biting his lip, Josh did. 

“Stephanie came into Chipotle - totally by chance, I swear,” he added at Tyler’s noise of surprise. “And, like, I asked her to come to Taco Bell with us tomorrow. But I can probably get us out of it if you want, sorry,” he finished quickly. 

Tyler sat up all the way, staring at him. 

“What?” said Josh, reddening under his scrutiny. 

He knew exactly what.

“You’re never going to stop amazing me, are you,” Tyler mused, lying back down to kiss him once on the lips. 

Josh frowned stubbornly. 

“Anything I’m allowed to see?” he murmured, gesturing to the legal pad on Tyler’s other side, eager to lure the subject away from his newly found humility. 

“Mmm,” Tyler hummed. “Not yet. Gotta, you know…” 

“Retain your artistic integrity?” Josh supplied.

Tyler chuckled, close enough for Josh to feel his breath leaving his lungs. 

“Yeah, sure. Or like… actually come up with something readable. I mostly just have fragments and ideas at this point.” 

“Mmm,” said Josh. “Fragments of what?” 

“I… it’s…” Tyler stalled, huffing. “You’re gonna have to wait until I’m done, loser. But I’ve been… I don’t know, working on something that I guess you could call Mary Oliver-inspired. It’s not like plagiarism or anything, just related.” 

Josh raised an interested eyebrow. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. The whole going-through-the-desert thing kind of stuck with me, you know? But I’m imagining it more as sort of the _desert of my mind_ …” He paused. “I don’t know. Sounds dumb when I try to explain it.” 

“Not dumb,” Josh said plainly. “Sounds creative, and honest.” 

“Two qualities I’m sure they’ll be eager to beat out of me the second I get to Yale,” Tyler snorted. 

Josh raised his head slowly. 

“Yale… you’re…” 

“I’m going,” Tyler said quietly. “Maybe I can make it feel a little more alive after all.” 

He smiled gently, and Josh smiled enormously, not even trying to hide his pride. 

“I knew you’d figure it out.” 

Tyler blushed - actually blushed - and it struck Josh as somehow entirely believable that this, of everything, would be the one thing that could make him timid. In the end, Josh realized, nothing could have been harder for his boyfriend than admitting he actually wanted the things that he didn’t feel entitled to have. He knew better than to leave himself off that list. 

Josh felt a sudden and unabashed surge of affection for the boy next to him, and without warning, tilted his head and leaned in to press hot lips into the crook of his neck, making Tyler screw up his face and giggle, blush still hot on his cheeks. 

“I… Josh, I think -” he hummed in the spaces between laughter, squirming at the loving onslaught of Josh’s mouth. “I think I found your skill. Other than rolling burritos, I mean.” 

“Mmm,” Josh smiled, tracing lines with his lips, journeying the familiar path down the sloping longitudes of his neck. 

Tyler let his eyes flutter shut, and melted closer. “I think…” he breathed, “your skill is caring about people. Counterintuitive to everything you attempt to show the world, I think you really, really fucking care.” 

Josh pulled back.

“That’s a _skill_?” he said skeptically, smiling nonetheless. “You can’t _major_ in _caring about people._ ”

“Never said I was talking about your career path,” Tyler said firmly, eyes beaming hard into his. “I was talking about _you._ ” 

Josh shut him up by bringing his line of kisses back to Tyler’s mouth, and closing both his lips around Tyler’s bottom one. 

Tyler squirmed on the bed almost as if he’d been tickled, and Josh followed with his mouth, his hands, his body. 

“I love you,” Josh dared to breathe into his skin, the world hesitating as he waited, frozen, for reply. 

“Shut up,” Tyler said, sitting up suddenly. “I - I love you too, or, or something. I was going to say it first.”

Josh unfroze, pressing his forehead into Tyler’s shoulder. 

‘Oh my _God,_ Ty…” 

“Josh,” Tyler whined, fingers in his hair. “I love you, and… and… you’re going to, oh god, you better not start doing that poetry thing again or I swear to God I might cry. I hope you know that I might -” 

He was cut off by Josh’s fingers on his lips, and in his mouth. 

“ _You do not have to be good_ ,” Josh began, teasingly, and Tyler whimpered, and then groaned, and then looked at Josh both disparagingly and with utter, utter, affection. 

Together they breathed, two animals, wild and soft and new. 

“You do not have to be good,” Josh repeated into his ear, lips still wet, hand still firm on Tyler’s back. “But you _are_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so. This is basically my heart on the page and I hope it means something to at least one person. 
> 
> Thank you for everything, [marsakat.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsakat)
> 
> The poem: [[x](http://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/geese/geese.html)]  
> My tumblr: [[x](https://jenshlers.tumblr.com)]


End file.
